


all our love (came out of the woodwork)

by sugarsanayeonie



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsanayeonie/pseuds/sugarsanayeonie
Summary: The story of Jeongyeon, an elusive thief,and Tzuyu, a princess, along with all the twists and turns in between that lead them to each other.///With high expectations set upon her, Tzuyu longs for something more beyond the walls of the castle.Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Jeongyeon finds herself attracted to the blossoming flowers in the royal garden.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: Twice Underrated Ships Ficfest





	1. I

\- I -

* * *

  


Sweat drips down Jeongyeon’s nape, fortunately curtained by her short, raven locks. It fails to make it any less bearable, however. After a small dispute with her sister back at home, she’d ended up running errands instead. Being the eldest sibling in the house has its disadvantages.

Sure their youngest is a silk-weaver while carrying multiple odd jobs to be able to put some food on the table, but that doesn’t stop Jeongyeon from doing her part even though she herself is stuck unemployed for the time being. After her hot headed head baker had caught some clueless worker being shortchanged, he decided to fire everyone there and then, which made no complete sense. Truth be told, Jeongyeon never thought getting fired from the bakery would take such a huge weight off her shoulders. At 23, one would think she’d have a stronger sense of justice, but Jeongyeon couldn’t really care less.

And so here she is.

And it’s that day of the week. When most of the town vendors flock toward the docks with the distinct scent of seawater clogging any civilian passing by. It’s only the tiniest of prices to pay when the town’s freshest stock of produce would predictably go in the blink of an eye. Around the hour, townsfolk scurry to get their hands on goods that would normally take a few carriage rides to different villages to deliver.

That’s why you see mothers dragging along their children with them while they whine and pout, maybe even throw a fit in the midst of the hustle and bustle of all the vendors exclaiming their hotshot deals and prices to the mess of a crowd. 

For some, it’s quite an overwhelming sight and would tend to stay away from it. However, for Jeongyeon, it’s alluring, as it serves a perfect scene for her.. sticky hands. She must admit, it’s nothing short of a stroll in the park whenever she sorts the chance to sneak a small glance at her targeted items and snatching them up for herself.

Occasionally, there’d be a salesperson with a sharp eye, such as the one gauging her casual stance at this very moment. She’s been meaning to grab a bite to eat, anyway. Might as well make it choppy with a nice selection of crisp bread laid out for her. And Jeongyeon’s had her fair share with skeptical people to say she’s more than capable of diffusing this poor man’s confusion.

“My, these pastries look exquisite, Mister,” Jeongyeon smiles, more to herself than the salesman, never taking her surveying gaze off the array of bread lined up in a near-perfect manner atop the wooden crates they’d come in. Her blouse is a loose fit, ends grazing the tips of her fingers; sewn carefully to be so on purpose. The leather vest she wears also houses several pockets that often go undetectable to a fool’s eye. “And how much would these go for?”

He continues to eye the civilian suspiciously, proving it to be rather difficult while serving others coming toward the stall. “Seven pieces of silver for the ones on your right, the smaller ones to your left go for five pieces,” he answers with a forced grin, handing change back to a woman hand-in-hand with a boy no younger than about five years of age if Jeongyeon had to guess.

“Oh, I see,” Feigning disappointment with a lilted frown, Jeongyeon begins to drive the bargain. “I can’t help but notice that your prices are a little on the heavy side.”

“I’m sure I’m being reasonable with my prices, young lady,” he responds, chuckling out a dry laugh. “Tell you what, why don’t you run off back to your family and bring a man to come take a look. Surely he must have a keener eye.”

Quite obviously from the twitch of her mouth, that set off a nerve in Jeongyeon. She remains tight-lipped as she weaves her way toward an unattended area of the stall, and pockets three, four, five pieces of bread, enough to sate her and her sister’s appetite for later today. As suspected, nobody notices. Jeongyeon’s terribly swift, and sneaky. One doesn’t learn how to evaporate one’s presence into mere dust overnight.

When she returns home, her sister greets her with a slap on the back. Unknowing of her own strength, it sends Jeongyeon into a slight coughing fit. “Have you grown that weak, Jeong?” Jihyo giggles as she crosses her arms.

It’s a given after working every single job on the side, her sister has grown significantly more brawn. Aside from that, she always comes home with more sweat on her brow but never without a smile gracing her face.

Sometimes Jeongyeon forgets that she’s supposed to be the older sibling.

“Oh hush,” Jeongyeon murmurs, picking the stolen goods from her pockets, she places each on their dinner table. “I’ve brought pastries from the market. Help yourself.”

It’s already fairly dark outside, the only visible sources of illumination are the amber lit lamps out in the cobbled streets. Kicking off her boots, Jeongyeon then makes a beeline toward her room. It’s small considering the size of their cottage, but just enough to fit a cozy bed, a storage cabinet and other small trinkets she finds interesting to keep.

The bar sized window to the left of her bed is perfect for ventilation, which is why Jeongyeon prefers spending the time where she isn’t bringing in crops with her sister, in her room. Well, that’s not entirely true. She thoroughly enjoys the thrill of running from the authorities, as odd as it sounds.

“This is a strange sight,” Peeking from the doorway is an amused Jihyo looking down at Jeongyeon’s figure laying on the bed. She only opens an eyelid to meet her sister’s gaze. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Chaeyoung right about now?”

She doesn’t always do it alone. Jeongyeon finds stealing - or _oblivious borrowing_ as she likes to call - the most effective with another person. Luckily, her family friend, Chaeyoung, happens to share the same values as her. Together they’d once managed to get away with a barrel of produce earlier in the year in spring. Unfortunately, she’s been sent off to work for royalty a few days back, leaving Jeongyeon to her own - much lonelier - escapades.

“She was offered a position in the castle last week,” Jeongyeon breathes out, “She promised to bring back a few souvenirs when she returns, so hopefully we’ll be able to sell them off for dozens of pieces of silver.”

Jihyo only hesitantly nods. She’d never outright displayed her intolerance for Jeongyeon’s.. habits. But she’d always make sure to remind her of a healthy lifestyle afterwards. Unfortunately, Jeongyeon’s a stubborn person, as well as hard-headed. “I’ll be out if you need me. Go make friends and whatnot. I’m beginning to pity you looking so lonesome.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it,” Jeongyeon says once she’s sure her sister has disappeared out of sight. 

Jeongyeon would much rather focus on perfecting her craft, not engage in pointless small talk with strangers. Perhaps for her it’s a form of protection in its own way. Why end up making connections that you’d eventually find yourself owing something to? That said, her circle, with no surprise, remains its miniscule size.

But Jeongyeon never urged for a change, because she’s perfectly fine the way it is now.

And she thinks she’s just lost her appetite. Dozing off, she cloaks herself in the thin sheets. Her sweats all dried up, which is likely going to earn a scolding from Jihyo tomorrow morning but she has little to mind about that. Jeongyeon drifts into a humble sleep, the last thing on her mind being the aroma of soup coming to a boil in the pot just above their stove.

* * *

  


Warm light guides dust within its rays, marking its path on the rustic tabletop. Tzuyu doesn’t find it hard to follow a speck of the dust with her gaze, resting a careful hand upon one of the bright spots on the fine cloth the rays land on. Unwillingly, she reels her thoughts back to the conversation taking place at the head of the table.

“Tzuyu,” Her father’s low voice speaks, bringing his daughter’s turned head to him promptly. “We would like to hear your thoughts on this project.”

Her mother’s looking at her expectantly, and as much as Tzuyu would rather not get into her royal affairs, she figures it’ll eventually come back to bite her in the chin a time in the future. “Your mother and I believe that it could help relieve internal disputes within the civilians of this town,” he continues, “A gala to welcome the Aureum Leaves.”

“That sounds splendid, Father,” Tzuyu comments, eyes dropping back to her half-eaten meal. The ingenuine enthusiasm in her voice draws a frown from her mother’s face, but the King only chuckles.

“Finish up your food, child. You are to return to your quarters as hastily as possible,” The Queen raises her napkin to her mouth, dabbing at the edges as she eyes her daughter with a glinted gaze. 

Tzuyu is used to this manner of coldness from her own mother. She’s nearing her mid-twenties, yet she’s being treated as nothing else but a child. “I’m no longer hungry. Please excuse me,” Deeply bowing, she briefly draws her gaze to the Queen before being tailed by two maidens. She sees a look of protest in her mother’s eyes, in a split second however, it disappears.

Back in the vastness of her personal quarters, her maids insist on doing the job for her, Tzuyu reassures them ever so gently, shuffling off her tight clothing into much more breathable sleeping ones. The minute she’s finished changing, a particular maiden comes knocking at her door and peeking her little head in.

“Your Highness,” She speaks, fingers playing at the hem of her woolen garments. Newly transferred to her side, Tzuyu recognizes her from the village farther west. If it weren’t for the rumors bouncing along castle walls of pretty village girls from all over being recruited at such a sudden time hadn’t made it to her ears, she might’ve mistaken her for one of the other princesses of a different land. Remembering correctly, this one is.. Elkie. “I apologize for the rude interruption, but Her Majesty sent me to give you this message.”

In her hands lie a simple wooden box with intricate carvings. Her mother has a knack for gifts. Albeit, they aren’t always presents, but she’s infamously known for several threats sent in ‘gifts’ an endless amount of ways. An entire kingdom was bound to shake at the mere mention of an offering from the Chou family. With that in mind, Tzuyu’s interest is clearly piqued. 

The maiden hesitantly hands over the box, and as Tzuyu takes it, she closely inspects it with a frown. It’s as light as a feather despite the hefty outward appearance. She then opens it, revealing an accessory. A ring to be exact, one in the shape of a flower. Part of the teachings Tzuyu’s required to take part in covers a subject of botany, however she truly has no clue of this one in particular.

“Elkie,” Tzuyu beckons softly, receiving an almost instant reply by the slightly startled maiden.

“Your Highness?”

“Will this be all?” Tzuyu runs her thumb down the side of the carving, still eyeing the glimmering ring, sitting in the middle of the box.

“Yes, Your Highness. Her Majesty only informed me to deliver this to your quarters.” 

“I understand, thank you,” Tzuyu sighs, “You may leave now.”

She curtsies before leaving, and Tzuyu takes herself to her balcony. It barely overlooks most of the castle walls a great distance away and she’s able to get the dusky breeze along with a great view of the darkening horizon. Call her melodramatic, but her heart aches for something more. Something she believes she’d find without the need for anything handed to her on a silver platter.

All the world has ever been to her is kind. She figures it comes with the many privileges of being born into royalty, and she isn’t wrong. But that prevents her from working for what she wants; fighting for what she wants.

Or maybe she should be more grateful for what she has, at least that’s what her mother always says. Perhaps she shouldn’t cling so much to the near impossible. Getting her hopes up would only so much as slow her down from her supposed priority; to succeed a throne. 

But is she truly prepared for such a great step? That Tzuyu is not sure of. 

She looks down at the flurry of gardeners trimming hedges and watering the many patches of greenery at the royal garden, spanning almost twice the size of the throne room. She begins to wonder about the families they’d have to feed and the late hours they’d work on a daily basis. But the truth is, she could never fully place herself in their shoes even if she tried.

Tzuyu has always wanted to have a civilian friend, though, as she envisions town festivities and traditional decor adorning each village with casual mingling and homemade foods. It would be a change of pace from the loose-lipped royalty she’s come to acquaint herself with due to her parents’ wishes.

These stories come from the King and Queen’s much older expeditions, and Tzuyu can only silently contemplate a castle-length away from the real action.

Bringing her attention back to the wooden box still left in her hand, an underlying emotion settles inside Tzuyu.

Replacing said feeling is a quiet shock as the rapid series of knocks on her door gets her to snap out of her daydreaming rather quickly. She makes her way toward the large entrance, creaking the doors open slightly as she’s greeted by yet another maiden. Except Tzuyu’s all too familiar with her visits.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” She curtsies shortly before flashing her brightest smile at the Princess as Tzuyu flits her gaze to the basket of pastries cradled in her friend’s arms. “A delivery from yours truly.”

“I was starting to wonder if you’d tripped up on the stairs, Sana,” Tzuyu quips, leading the brunette inside. 

With a hop in her step, she does a quick scan of Tzuyu’s room although having already seen it a thousand times. “Apologies, Your Highness. I was caught up in a little kitchen mishap.”

“Oh. Then are you alright?” Tzuyu questions, a little concerned.

“You know me well. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

A pregnant silence is bestowed upon them. It’s not uncommon between the two of them, but for some reason Tzuyu couldn’t place, it’s entirely awkward.

“You aren’t going to eat?”

Tzuyu then reminds herself of the basket of bread, of which Sana has gone through the trouble of smuggling to her room. “No, I intend to. Dinner was.. unpleasant.”

“Would I be correct if I were to assume you fought with your Mother again?” Sana queries softly, eyes laid upon the Princess with her knees folded under her on her bed.

And as always, Sana sees right through her. 

At its roots, their friendship is something unexpected. Since Sana had never been allocated close enough to interact with the Princess, the chances of them meeting, let alone establishing acquaintanceship were quite slim. In fact, it happened one day of penetrating winds and the biting cold where their paths were soon to meet.

To keep warm from the hazardous temperature levels, blankets were distributed throughout the banquet hall to each person of the castle, while a ghastly blizzard raged all through the night. 

Perhaps it was out of her own misfortune that Sana had managed to arrive so late, missing the opportunity as they’d just announced that they’d given away every single usable garment thick enough for each body shivering in the cold. She was still relatively new to the castle, and befriending those years ahead of her was often intimidating, so she had doubted anybody would lend a hand to the newbie. 

Soon enough, Sana had started shaking as well, hands hugging and rubbing her arms as the tips of her ears and fingers ice cold, struggling to maintain her steady composure. All she had on was her cardigan with strands of yarn split at some ends on top of her standard garbs. 

“ _You there,_ ” A firm voice had rang. It was directed to Sana, finding herself held under a strict gaze by nobody other than the Princess herself. And even then, Sana had found her so beautiful. Her soft features only seemed to fit her so perfectly, rosy cheeks contrasting with the sharpness of her jaw, and her eyes that were so round but displayed layers of icy tones. 

Suddenly, other heads seemed to turn to the scene before them; the respected Princess standing before a lowly maiden. “ _I highly doubt your clothes are suitable during this sort of weather._ ”

“ _Your Highness_ ,” Sana curtsied deeply, but not without feeling a cold gust of air shooting up the back of her spine. Her surveying gaze had never let up, arms gracefully resting on her front while she uttered no response.

Much to Sana’s shock, she’d felt the brush of fur on her back. It was heavy and above all else, comfortably heated. The Princess had offered her coat to the maiden. And with that, she’d been left speechless in the middle of the banquet hall, with pairs of mouths surrounding them left wide open.

Granted it was a long while back, but Sana was still grateful for her kindness nonetheless. 

That is why whenever Sana is given the chance, she’d repay Tzuyu for such. No matter how small it appears.

“It wasn’t so much an argument as it was my reaction over a petty comment,” Tzuyu explains, almost defeatedly. “What am I trying to achieve, Sana?”

She isn’t sure how to best answer her friend, pondering it over with a jutted bottom lip.

“Well you were always fairly stubborn,” Sana says, drawing a quaint smile. “One of the many phenomena of having high expectations set upon you. Could that be it?”

“It is hard to say,” Tzuyu sighs, and Sana takes this moment to sit at the foot of her bed, possibly in an attempt of physically comforting the girl. “Am I truly as hard headed as you say?”

Sana almost giggles at the countless times the Princess subconsciously exhibits this; one time for instance, she’d refused a nice bowl of soup when Sana’d insisted it would get rid of her nasty cold, or when she had learned Tzuyu prefers to fold her own garments in her own time, and creased her brow in slight irritation whenever she found a pile of neatly ironed garments at the edge of her bed. She had never taken it out on anybody, though. 

Certain memories in times past involving Tzuyu were always strangely so distinct to Sana.

“I would not want to lie to you, Tzuyu. However, I do think it is an endearing quality of yours,” Sana recalls when the Princess’ reputation seemed a little tainted that night by out of her good heart by tending to a peasant like herself. Yet she displayed no care for those who thought ill of her. “I believe someday that may even be what leads you to something beyond what you possess.”

It comes naturally for Sana to say such positive words. It’s all she ever knows, really. The optimism radiating from the girl even manages to soothe someone as reserved as Tzuyu. The Princess too knows this.

“You appear to have so much faith in me, Sana. I’m afraid I’ll end up disappointing you in the future.” Tzuyu’s throat starts to scratch, barely managing to deliver her words in a composed manner.

“You could never. Do not say such things, Your Highness.” Sana is quick to counter, eyes travelling from Tzuyu’s to her hands, gliding hers slowly on top of the Princess’. Half of Sana was expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t so much as give out a flinch.

“You are more exceptional than you realise.”

If Tzuyu had a piece of gold for every time she’d received flattering remarks from suitors that have travelled from far lands, or compliments from those princesses made to befriend her with fake smiles and touchy hands only for the sake of personal gain, she’d still be extremely wealthy, but with mountains more gold stored in the deepest of their castle’s chambers.

But by a complete stroke of luck, she’d stumbled across Sana who at the time, presented herself as nothing more than a maid serving her family. Yet Tzuyu’s grown so fond of her, eventually gaining her as a true friend in the process. 

To receive those words, entirely laced with genuineness, makes Tzuyu feel a fuzziness inside. A calming warmth. Similar to the one she’d unknowingly given to Sana the day they’d met.

“If that is so, then you and I are one and the same.”

And Tzuyu lightly clasps her hand against Sana’s, rubbing the back of hers with a thumb.

* * *

  


The morning light seeps into Jeongyeon’s lids as she shuffles at the mild disturbance, tossing her pillow to shield the heat. On the other side of the cottage, Jihyo is up and ready for the day ahead of her, getting out of a quick shower and heading into the kitchen to cook up a little meal for herself and her half asleep sister.

Jihyo’s not as subtle as she thinks, as the clanging of pots only stirs Jeongyeon’s unpleasant early morning mood. She meets Jihyo in the living room, a grouchy weight in her step, letting out a loud yawn.

“Sorry about the noise. Did I wake you?” Jihyo apologizes, forcing herself not to chuckle at her sister’s messy bedhead.

Jeongyeon slips a wave of her hand in dismissal. “Not exactly,” She then catches sight of Jihyo’s satchel slung on her shoulder. The girl isn’t clad in her typical clothing, more like she’s planning to go out venturing somewhere from the looks of her pocketed bottoms and loose collar top. “Where are you headed?”

“I’m running a short errand for a fellow friend of mine,” Jihyo responds, slipping on her sandals while the reflective surface of their dusty mosaic windows allow her to check her complexion once more. “Something about a collectors item.”

For one, Jeongyeon is naturally skeptical of everybody she crosses. Taking into consideration her ‘ _hobby_ ’, it would be foolish if she doesn’t. Second, Jeongyeon’s awfully familiar with swindlers. She runs into them as often as she steps on piles of horse feces - which, in the village, is surprisingly frequent. “Sounds suspicious,” Her comment does not betray her qualms, gaze almost pleading Jihyo to see her through.

“I know what I’m doing, Jeong,” Jihyo assures, “Since you don’t seem to have any plans as of late, why don’t you tag along?”

Jeongyeon pauses and thinks it through. It’s true that she doesn’t have anything to do so long as Chaeyoung is bound to the royals, as a plus, she’s also able to ease her suspicions.

“Alright,” Jeongyeon shrugs, “Where to?”

“Somewhere along the northern division, we’ll meet them along the way.”

_The northern division_. Jeongyeon swears that the exact place had fallen on her ears before. Chaeyoung had come to her ecstatically, announcing that she’d be transferring to the castle for domestic services indefinitely. Three words that kept coming up were ‘ _northern division_ ’. It’s fairly certain that nobody in their side of the village had ever journeyed to the entirely opposite side of it, just out of pure leisure. Some brought themselves there for peculiar jobs, and even so, were sure to risk ruthless discrimination; some types worse than others.

“Ji, isn’t that-”

“The wealthy cows of this village, yes.” Jihyo means it as a joke, but Jeongyeon bites her tongue at the mention of the rich. How could she not? In her eyes, they are nothing but a cluster of greedy pigs thriving at the sight of the scuffles of the poor. “Do you still wish to accompany me?”

“You were planning to go all by yourself knowing its reputation?” Jeongyeon sputters. 

“What other choice do I have, Jeong?” Jihyo justifies, “I owe this friend a lot. If you are to keep me here just to lecture me, I’ll have to tell you I’m running a thin thread on time. You are either staying or coming with.”

Jeongyeon could easily refuse, however she wouldn’t be able to live with herself knowing she would willingly leave her younger sister with the possibility of facing uptight snobs. With that said, Jihyo is an adult, and is incredibly capable in many ways; that is including self-defense. She wouldn’t need Jeongyeon for protection, but Jeongyeon only needs to be sure.

Gritting her teeth, she packs her own satchel and follows Jihyo out the front door, catching her sister’s grin in her peripheral vision as she raises her arms in a much-needed stretch. Her view is filled with the usual bout of rampant children chasing each other around with sticks, a couple of which had decided to bug a salesman and his fish, causing them to scurry off at the shake of his fist. Off to the side are wives simply enjoying their time gossiping on and on about what Jeongyeon assumes to be their husbands who would already be off lumbering, farming or fishing at this hour. 

Jeongyeon doesn’t need change. Everything is perfectly fine the way it is now.

“Well what are you waiting for? Lead the way, Ji.”

Setting off the journey the duo trailed their way to, the first adventure of the day involves hauling a ride toward the north. Thankfully, Jihyo is a woman with a handful of useful connections. She’d mentioned a lady named Seungwan, a coachwoman from the eastern division who’s coincidentally temporarily staying in the area. Apparently, her wife had trouble finding a suitable farrier for their horse and luckily, Jihyo was available to help her - not without a return, of course.

“Tell me the truth, how many people do you actually have under your thumb?” Jeongyeon asks with a hint of skepticism lacing her tone, aimed toward Jihyo.

A carriage pulled by a single aged horse closes in on them, stopping ruggedly on the grainy path beneath them. It was a common type of carriage seen among plenty of towns, with a thin veil hoisted to cover the opening behind it well.

“There are many things about me that I sadly prefer not to tell you,” Jihyo answers simply with a telling smirk, stepping inside the tiny hatch.

About half an hour had passed until they’d gone from rough, uneven roads to a grassy uphill, reaching unusually green plains. When Jeongyeon squints, she’s able to make out tiny houses scattered among stripped land. Unlike the ones back at home, the houses weren’t scrapped and fading of color, instead looking as if they were recently redone. 

The bumpiness of the carriage slows to a stop and Seungwan ushers them out of the carriage, exchanging a few words with Jihyo. “I appreciate the ride, Seungwan,” Jihyo thanks.

“It’s no problem. I owe you one, especially after how well Maximus is doing,” Seungwan gestures to the black horse at the front, “I wasn’t aware you had that sort of experience under your belt. How fortunate is it that Joohyun and I happened to be around when you needed?”

“Fortunate indeed,” Jihyo draws her gaze to her sister, off to the side and awkwardly waiting out their conversation. “Thank you again. Here’s to another coincidental meeting.”

“Likewise, Hyo,” And at that, they share a single embrace before Seungwan whips her horse’s reins, speeding off into a cloud in the direction they came.

Coughing up dust, Jihyo strides up to join Jeongyeon. “It’s this way.”

It’s expected that they are to draw some sort of attention at such a foreign place, short gasps and murmurs grow as they pass faces. Although under the same rulers, Jeongyeon notices how different they are from them. The distinct clothing; bright fabrics sewn tastefully in frocks for ladies eyeing them curiously. The elegant-like mannerisms; even the young look well groomed with how they saunter like crusading youngsters, completely unlike their home. They themselves felt out of place.

Jeongyeon tries to suppress the lump in her throat, tight grip on the strap of her satchel while she grows more conscious. As she lifts her eyes to Jihyo, she on the other hand, has her head held high. If her confidence said anything, she might as well fit in with the crowd despite her mismatched clothing.

They turn a corner, much to Jeongyeon’s relief, a dark closed off tunnel away from the main town road. However, a different feeling creeps up her spine, one she’s grown to always pay attention to. She’s forced to dismiss it temporarily at the sound of Jihyo’s voice. “They should be arriving in just a moment,” Jihyo senses her sister’s distress at the situation and shakes her arm to snap her out of it. “Loosen up, will you? What happened to the master of the art of stealing? Surely this shouldn’t shake you, Jeong.”

“It doesn’t,” Jeongyeon pulls away from her grasp, instinctively scanning their surroundings. It’s just away from the sunlight, darkness shadowing their figures. From the looks of it, it’s the optimal setting for a mugging to take place. “Who exactly is this person you are to meet with?”

“A friend of a friend.”

“That seems to be your only answer lately.” Jeongyeon mumbles.

“You are to see them anyway, so why ask?” Jihyo shoots back.

“Who goes there?” A voice echoes, bouncing off the tunnel walls. Both of them jump at the volume. It’s a woman’s, if their ears don’t mistake them. How long has she been there? 

“Are you associated with Kim Dahyun?” Jihyo asserts, the low tone of her voice resounding. “I am a friend of hers, here to collect the package.”

There’s an imminent pause. A figure makes herself known, stepping out of the pure shadows into a shaded but visible spacing. She’s clad in garments nothing like those of the civilians they’ve seen a few minutes ago, instead more of what she and Jihyo are dressed in. Shoulder length hair appears to be a lightened shade of brown, and her cat-like eyes glinting in the dark can accurately prove to be scheming ones.

“I was informed only one was to come,” She nods her head toward Jeongyeon, “Who is the other you’ve brought?”

“A friend of hers as well,” She doesn’t mention the fact that they’re related, of course, only trying to prevent complications. “I’ve brought what you requested, now the package.”

The woman steps closer, boots shuffling the gravel beneath them as she holds out an open hand, indicating that she hands over her goods. “The silver first, darling.”

_This is clearly a trick_ , Jeongyeon thinks. While it seems blatantly so, she knows Jihyo wouldn’t fall for such a deviant ruse. Contrarily, Jihyo doesn’t hesitate to fish a hefty sack out of her satchel and toss it to her.

Somewhat surprised by this action by the raise of her brows, the woman strings it open and peeks inside at its contents, humming to herself. 

“I must say, it’s quite odd that your friend would take an interest with an item such as the one in my possession,” Delivering with a sly smirk, the woman pockets the sack. Jeongyeon takes demanding steps closer to her.

“The goods,” Jeongyeon impatiently commands, “Hand it over.”

“You see even if I wanted to, I simply can’t. This item would definitely earn me a couple more between several other trades.”

Jeongyeon spat, “You’re a lying scumbag,” Her sister beside her is as composed as ever, gaze pointing straight to the pocketed sack of silver. _How can she be so calm?_

“It’s only part of the trade, honey.”

Jihyo’s about to protest before she takes off in the opposite direction at breakneck speed. The gust of wind from the change of pace startles the duo, as they begin to tail the thief down the main road.

Part of her wants to get angry at Jihyo’s decision to go on with the deal so blindly. With what’s at stake, they could end up losing a ton of pieces of silver while they’re struggling to barely make ends meet. Even if it’s on another’s behalf, the money could end up down the drain and Jihyo would have to work extra hard to gain it back. So why did she almost seem unbothered?

Just as soon as they think they’re closing in on her, she’s agile as she swerves to avoid salesmen’s carts and pedestrians witnessing their chase, vaulting over humps of hay bales and stacks of produce over the crowded market. 

Every now and then she’ll look back and scoff to be greeted with the sight of Jeongyeon and Jihyo and their eagerness. It’s like she’s enjoying it, really. In actuality, Jeongyeon couldn’t blame her, understanding the thrill behind it. But in this case, she’s the one getting robbed. And it really isn’t any fun getting a taste of your own medicine.

They continue to pursue her down a wider alleyway, as she knocks down barrels causing them to topple down the street to slow them down. Jeongyeon effortlessly dodges them by lunging toward the left; Jihyo hurdling over each one in swift movements to the right. 

Their heartbeat quickens, feet feeling the heat of a fast-paced pursuit.

Jeongyeon starts to think this is a waste of energy. But another part of her refuses it to be. This is over money. And no petty thief, as ironic as it sounds, would make Jeongyeon give up so easily.

A tall structure comes into view, an isolated one appearing to be quite old. It’s a clock tower. The thief seems to be cornered by the looks of it; there are no other exits other than the opening they’d just entered from. The woman flings the flimsy wooden door open and bolts inside, leading to the entrance of the main tower. 

Following after, the two sisters find themselves overwhelmed with clanging metal gears and echoing ticks and tocks. It’s incredibly vast however Jeongyeon sees a singular staircase leading toward the very top of the tower with an opening at the ceiling. Resounding footsteps on heavy metal pinpoint the thief already making her way to the top, in suit they hurry after.

“You two are starting to get on my nerves,” She sneered, making it to a platform curling off the edge. One miscalculation and she’d fall. Instead, she spots a rope in the distance, making its circular course around the tower’s mechanism and hurling itself straight toward her. Grabbing a hold of it with impeccable timing, the thief latches on with both her feet and begins to ascend the tower.

“Shit,” Jeongyeon curses, looking for other options as she leans on the fragile railing of the staircase, head craning to the thief on a joyride to heaven. 

“We can use the ladder,” Jihyo points out, rushing to a long series of ladders that go all the way to the top. “It looks sturdy enough.”

Together they scale its length, each pull of their muscles more difficult than the last. Darting her eyes toward the thief, she and Jihyo make steady eye contact as she throws a wink to the short-haired woman. With a pull to the rope, the thief shoots up toward the hatch-like opening on the ceiling. If Jeongyeon remembers correctly from her perspective below, there isn’t anywhere she could possibly escape to. They would be able to successfully lay a hold of her.

The breeze from above feels nice on her cheeks, rubbing up against them in coolness while she’s barely able to open her eyes. The view is certainly breathtaking. Too bad two civilians are about to make it extremely difficult to savour such a beautiful sight. The thief swivels her leaning body to face the opening of the hatch, eyes following two bodies crawling up from underneath it, both in obvious exhaustion.

“Oh shoot,” The thief raises her arms in defeat, sack tucked safely under her thumb. Despite the underhanded situation, her tone is mocking. “You caught me,” With her chin held high, she leans back on the stony partition, the only thing separating her and a deadly drop. “I guess this is what they call the end of the line.”

“Hand over the bag and we won’t have any problems,” Jeongyeon’s solidified tone cuts through the windy air weaving through them. 

“You don’t look like you’re from here,” She easily brushes off the threat, throwing the sack of silver dangerously high up into the sky and catching it without effort. “Neither did that Dahyun kid.”

Jihyo’s in disbelief that somebody as pure as the sunlight that is Dahyun would willingly involve herself in a trade with a despicable thief such as the one before them.

“We’re not going to ask you again, thief,” It’s Jihyo’s turn to speak this time, glaring daggers at the mention of her friend’s name from such an irksome person.

She only rolls her eyes, bored at the clearly rephrased words they’ve been spewing out since their earlier encounter.

“I’m sorry to say but your threats lack essence,” She ridicules, “If you want it so badly then you _fight_ for it,” Her stance widens to a shallow standing squat; a direct dare to a fight. 

Would Jeongyeon let herself get mixed up in petty street fights? The answer is no, she wouldn’t. In fact it’s entirely unfavourable. It creates a commotion and along with that, unwanted attention. The sole purpose of keeping a closed circle is to avoid obstacles such as the one they’re currently faced with. At home, she’d say that without a doubt she steals for herself, for Jihyo; for the thrill.

For times when her strength lacked, her incredible stamina delivers, as observed from the great chase they’d put down. She’s never caused so much as a feud since she was an infant.

That’s more of Jihyo’s thing. Strength. But she’s always known to be a level-headed person through and through.

That’s why in this apparent moment, she freezes up. Instead of confronting a threat head on, she’s just been outright challenged to a dispute that had no other means than a physical beating.

“Jeongyeon, don’t.” The expected reaction from her sister. They share a glance, a knowing one on Jeongyeon’s end as her sister’s eyes are glossed over.

Silence sets itself on the thin air, and the bell behind the three civilians sways ever so slightly under its influence. The thief hums at the revelation, mostly amused by it all than let down at the denial of a fight.

“How interesting,” she muses, “That is indeed a shame. I would be disheartened, but I have an offer to run off to,” Throwing a glance over her shoulder she ushers her last words before disappearing. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

And Jeongyeon…

Feels nothing.

* * *

  


For some reason, the picture never leaves itself out of Tzuyu’s mind. It’s a faint memory replaying over and over. Is it possible that it has delved to become a sort of obsession? Thumbing at the wooden box given to her by her own mother, she pays no mind that it appears obvious she’s in deep thought. Every once in a while she clicks it open, revealing the same sight she’s been greeted with for the past few minutes; the ring.

“I could only imagine it would look beautiful on you,” The sweet honey-like voice rings from behind the Princess. Sitting cross-legged, Sana peeks at the box while she ever so gently braids Tzuyu’s hair into perfect tails. “Her Majesty has untarnished taste in accessories.”

Tzuyu doesn’t respond immediately, still focused on the box held in her grasp. 

“One could say that,” she mutters. 

Sana joins Tzuyu by her side once done with the braids, inspecting the accessory held inside the container.

“That flower,” she begins, “is a protea.”

“Pardon?”

Sana smiles before continuing tenderly, “It symbolizes courage and diversity. Even change.”

“I used to be incredibly fond of flowers,” she adds, her voice growing softer. Tzuyu can tell she’s touching a sensitive subject. “My father and I used to take care of a field of begonias. That’s how I came to love them so much. He taught me about everything I know now; the care involved, the many stunning types. It might as well have been a hobby of mine.”

“It’s a special memory to you. Is it not?” Tzuyu questions despite already knowing the answer. “I think your father would be proud knowing you treasure it well.”

The little moments they share together often hold minimal words. Just Sana’s peaceful presence brings Tzuyu’s atmosphere into tranquility.

“Shall I accompany you to your breakfast, Your Highness?”

“That would be most welcome.”

Tzuyu places the box in a drawer next to one of her large cupboards near the vanity. And along with it, her thoughts about her mother’s gift for the remainder of her breakfast.

As usual, it’s uneventful. She’s the tiniest bit grateful that her parent’s refrain from speaking too much during the early times of day, allowing each three to excuse themselves to return to their duties at the same instant. 

In fact, apart from meal times, she rarely sees the King and Queen during her days in the castle. Although, thinking it through, while they would be off tending to several urgent matters, she’d make herself familiar with the royal garden; a rather recent addition to her family’s property.

When Sana opened up to her moments ago, it raised many questions for Tzuyu. Naturally, if in need of serious contemplation, she’d seek refuge in the garden’s subduing environment. So her feet take memorized steps toward the eastmost wing, slippers clicking against the hard tile, until she reaches a doorway made entirely of glass spanning three-quarters of the wall looming before her. Pushing it open, her once dulled ears flood with the chirp of birds and leaves in the wind.

Tzuyu locates her spot under a massive oak tree, vines stringing down in a curtain of green as she sits atop a swinging bench stationed underneath.

Few things allow her to clear her mind. A secluded area that nobody in the castle ever knows about and is technically now hers, is indeed one of them.

Needless to say, Tzuyu’s inherently drawn to nature. There’s just something so spectacular about it, yet still capable of having such subtlety.  
And she feels so strongly about it that even as she threads a hand through the blades of grass, the feeling of the cool earth subconsciously makes her give off a smile.

She stays like this for a good few minutes before returning to the frigid castle; ironically also her home. Waiting inside, Tzuyu’s not exactly able to distinguish the person’s features so well. The short stature tells it’s a girl, maybe no less than twenty years of age.

“Y-Your Highness,” The girl curtsies, oddly out of place in Tzuyu’s eyes for a reason she cannot discern. Again, she has run into another newbie. Unlike the much more put together maiden she had been greeted with the evening before, this one is.. _nervous_.

And Tzuyu pauses in her step to do a harmless once over. The regular maid garments appear a tad bit big on the girl, while her short blonde locks are tied into a low ponytail.

Tzuyu offers a polite nod, a constant two other maidens following behind as per usual.

_How odd._

She sees no apparent reason why she’d be so jittery. Then again, it must be the nerves of a new job. 

As she turns, Chaeyoung goes back to what she was doing; that is pocketing an impeccably shiny trinket on one of the many tall shelves.

At this rate she’d have a whole stash of new toys in her quarters. If only Jeongyeon were here to assist her, she’d probably be able to get much farther.

* * *

  


Maybe the both of them had reached an unspoken consensus on their troublesome time spent in the northern division, silently strolling around its partially empty streets in attempts to stall an inevitable topic. They’ve learned so far that bystanders wouldn’t cause any problems for the two outsiders, as despite the rumors, they appear far more afraid of them than vice versa.

Maybe this is in hopes of running into that same thief, or simply Jeongyeon just didn’t want to accept letting it go.

“You’re thinking awfully loud, Jeong,” Jihyo pointedly observes as they make it to another market, eerily identical to the one they pursued the thief through. It’s the way the civilians pave a path in fear, possibly thinking they’d be thugs from a distant division, that strangely makes them feel a tinge of alleviation in such a foreign place. “What is it?”

“You’re asking, but you know of it full well,” Jeongyeon pushes, tone leaking with gloom. “Aren’t you infuriated by today’s events?”

Jihyo clicks her tongue, “In all honesty, the goods my friend had asked me to pick up on her behalf weren’t expected to be so valuable.”

What? If that were true it would have definitely explained the way she’d reacted earlier, or the lack of an overt reaction, rather.

“She hadn’t informed me of what I was collecting. So I figured it was some sort of antique, since she swears by finishing all her varying collections,” She continues, still with an indifferent tone of speaking.

“You aren’t making any sense,” Jeongyeon stops in her tracks behind Jihyo’s shadow, her sister turning back with dull eyes. She fees her teeth gritting, fists clenching as her nails dig into her palms. She fails to _understand._ “Then what was the whole point?” She spat, “And what about your money?”

“Money isn’t everything, Jeong,” Her lips turn upwards, a laboured smile in place. “I can always get more.”

They continue to walk in silence, the crowd seems to dissipate around them as a sequestered backstreet gaining Jeongyeon’s sight. It’s a wide stony archway, moss seeping into its crevices. It’s discreet enough to go unnoticed by a large mass of people, but its structure intrigues the two sisters.

“Although what I do want to know is why you hesitated up there, even before I reached out,” Jihyo says behind a shoulder, pondering on her sister’s actions.

Even for Jeongyeon, it’s hard to blurt an explanation outright. So she keeps her lips drawn in a line, Jihyo humming at the lack of a reply. As anticipated, she retaliates with quietude.

Then there’s a hushed whisper. Peculiar as a stretch of shadows loom over the passageway. Jihyo thinks that she may be hearing things, dropping her gaze to her sister’s as a confirmation of the voice. Jeongyeon furrows her brows, hand clutching her satchel in white-knuckled caution.

This seems all too familiar, really.

“ _Outsiders_ ,” Comes a purring voice from behind, the entryway allowing nimble light to bounce off the figure, heads turning in simultaneous startle. “How _cute_. It’s been awhile since we’ve had fresh meat.”

“I told you, boss,” A second voice comes out of lurking, joining her ‘boss’ by her side. Jeongyeon sees no other possible exit other than the one being blocked by them. “My eyes never deceive me.”

They appear one by one out of the shadows, until they stand surrounded in a circle of five figures in the dimly lit area.

“And what pray tell would be your business here, travellers?” The first speaks, quite obviously the leader of the bunch telling from the way the others hush at her tone. “You do realise you’ve just very well stumbled upon our territory.”

A gang? Being a part of a wealthy community must still have particular downsides, especially in crime.

Jihyo steps up to the plate, headstrong and full, “We have done no wrong.”

“Oh, I do believe that much,” Her feminine tone rings despicable, a humorous laugh leaving her lips before taking on a much more serious tone, puddles smacking against the wet stone as she comes visibly closer. “However we’re less interested in you, and more of what you have in your possession.”

“You’re mistaken. We do not have anything-”

“The _valuables_.”

Jeongyeon’s eyes dart to Jihyo, while the younger’s brows knit together in a fearful confusion. “The.. valuables?”

The splatting stops, feet stopping a small distance away from Jihyo. Getting a good view of the stranger, she stands at a height as tall as Jeongyeon. They even share the same shade of blonde, except hers are longer and straighter. But most importantly, in her hand is a relatively sharp dagger.

“We’ve been watching you from the moment of your arrival,” A sinister smile is plastered on her face, looking Jihyo up and down as shelicks her lips. “We know about your talk taking place in a _questionable_ alleyway.”

“We don’t have them-”

“How _disappointing_.”

In a matter of moments, a fist comes flying in a strike, but Jihyo quickly deflects, her attacker’s arm slinging backward from her strength. As she goes in for another swing, the younger dodges and ducks just in time. It’s clear to Jihyo that she isn’t going to be breaking a sweat anytime soon, so it goes on in an exchange of fast paced punches and agile veers. Until she goes for the leg, sweeping Jihyo off balance and hitting her back with a loud thump.

“Jihyo-” Jeongyeon blurts. Instantly, iron grips are on both her arms, rendering her unable to make a move without risking a blackened eye. She curses herself for being so _useless_.

The blood pulses through her veins all while her muscles tense at the scene laid out in front of her, her sister seeming defenseless in the hands of a brute. 

“The valuables,” A threatening hand to her collar as she warns. “Or your friend’s head.”

“What’s all this then?” A body pushes her presence forward, another deepened voice from the darkness. Albeit, an oddly familiar one. “Let her go, you _heathen_.”

Even if ever so slightly a motion, she loosens her grip, turning to face the girl as her face morphs into what seems like unsuspecting horror.

“Nayeon, forgive us. We hadn’t known you-”

“Save your mouth,” Nayeon struts up to their position, taking a glance at the woman in her clutches. If Jihyo isn’t mistaken, there’s a diminutive shine in her eyes. “Just leave them to me, Momo.”

Nodding at an instant, she rounds up her gang, leaving Jeongyeon unhandled and Jihyo reluctantly getting back up on her feet. “Yes, we understand. Let’s go girls.”

As soon as they vanish from sight, Nayeon feels the burning glares of two women blazing holes into her skull.

“How convenient for us to be meeting _so frequently_ ,” Nayeon drawls. “They ought to hand you a beatdown if I hadn’t stepped in, you know.”

“What are you doing back here, _thief_?” And Jeongyeon only takes Jihyo’s hand in hers. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

Ironic. A pickpocket like herself lecturing another of her kind. But for all she knew, she refrained from stealing and harming somebody for it. Is it really all that different between their cases? Maybe not so much, but she subconsciously shuts herself off from thinking that deeply into it.

“You should consider yourself lucky that you walked away without so much as a scratch,” She catches sight of their interlocked hands, rolling her eyes at the cheesy scene.

These girls have been through a lot together, more than what Nayeon could possibly fathom. If it wasn’t so sickenly endearing as it was corny, she wouldn’t have done what she’s about to do right now.

The jingling coming from the inside of her vest’s pocket sounds heavy. Nayeon pulls out a sack and tosses it toward the two, Jeongyeon coming forward to catch it hesitantly.

She clenches her fist around the bag, hearing the silver crinkle from her grasp. “Why are you doing this?”

A reasonable question for a thief like herself. Why _is_ she doing this? It would be less complicated for Nayeon to keep the silver and the goods, so why only now does she struggle with a moral dilemma.

“The thing they were so hellbent on retrieving happens to be the one we had set up for trade. And believe it or not, I was not planning on breaking your bones over it,” She explains, although she doesn’t know why she bothers spelling it out for them. It isn’t like a righteous act cancels out a not-so-righteous one. “I for one, have enough decency to put boundaries on _unarmed travellers_ such as yourselves,” At this point she’s only spouting syllables ondeaf ears, telling from the silence that follows. “You wouldn’t be as lucky with them.”

Jeongyeon has a different plan, still not letting up. “You cheated us out on a deal. That changes _nothing_.”

“Nobody lost anything here. I returned your silver, and kept my goods. For all you know, there was no trade taking place.”

The air is damp, the only thing separating their breaking atmosphere are the isolated drops of water colliding with the ground in tiny rhythmic pings. 

“We.. appreciate your change of heart,” Jihyo utters, and Nayeon’s head shoots up. All the while, Jeongyeon raises a brow. “Only it’s about time that we should get going.”

“Well, I should probably inform you that it simply isn’t possible to hail a ride,” Nayeon interjects, “As of today, transport from the northern division to anywhere else is suspended temporarily.”

“What?”

“There aren’t many details, but it’s on the accord of this special function held by the royal family.”

“Great,” Jeongyeon mutters, sighing deeply before looking at her sister expressing the same emotions of distress that graces her face.

Nayeon only sits back and watches, thumbs under the loops of her belt as if it enables her to think better, coming to terms with a new idea sprouting in her head.

“I suppose I may be able to.. accomodate you for the time being,” She offers politely, “That is of course, if you’d trust a _thief_ such as I.”

She’s fully aware that it raises a massive amount of suspicion, since it’s coming from the cunning Nayeon herself. And they see no reason why she’d be doing a gracious act.

Jeongyeon only wants never to see this woman again. Annoyance leaking through her tone, she speaks. “We have it sorted from here, thanks-”

“Prices don’t come cheap in the northern division, an inn wouldn’t be ideal with shallow pockets like yours.”

“So we just go with you, is that it? Don’t think for a second that we’ll fall for your deceptive trickery.”

One may think she’s excessively dramatic in this situation, but who could blame her for only being skeptical. Especially since they’ve already been turned downside up once. Jeongyeon’s again stunned by Jihyo’s silence as her sister hasn’t been herself this whole trip.

“Suit yourselves,” Nayeon shrugs, slowly turning and walking away into the setting horizon. “You wouldn’t last a day out here on your own.”

Finally, Jihyo acts, running past her sister and up to Nayeon, grabbing her wrist causing her torso to twist in her direction.

“And if we accept? How will we know you won’t play your games once more?” Her eyes glisten with a tinge of hope, perhaps on Nayeon’s behalf. It’s strange. Unfamiliar, to Nayeon. Almost intimidatingly scary.

Nayeon looks back at Jeongyeon, then at Jihyo.

“You won’t,” She smiles.

* * *

  


Tzuyu had initially wanted to return to the confines of her room, a conserved space for her and her thoughts only. Instead, her plans are otherwise ruined by her own father, parading down the halls of their abode as he catches sight of his daughter.

“Tzuyu,” The King struts, a hand brought up as a sign of dismissal toward the royal guards stationed in the corridor. “Walk with me.”

If anything, the King would do this on a regular basis. Whether it be a kind-hearted lecture, or a gentle reminder of her deeds as a princess. He always made sure to handle those things carefully around Tzuyu, like the loving father he is.

“What is it you wish to speak to me about, Father?”

Clearing his throat, the King speaks, “I simply wanted to chat,” His eyes dart, unsure, “You’ve been.. quite distant to your Mother and I as of late.”

As unbreakable his powerful front may be to the public’s eye, shattering those who dare cross him, Tzuyu’s father has a heart of gold; a fragile one at that, with an entire space dedicated to his family.

And the last thing Tzuyu would want to do is break it.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t aware of that until just now, Father,” She admits, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I should be the one to blame,” The King takes his daughter’s shoulders into his hands. “I am the one at fault, being a bad father and neglecting my child’s needs. I apologise.”

It’s unsurprising how righteous mannerisms in his leadership are unknowingly able to seep into his personal relationships.

“If I’m being completely honest, I believe neither of us are responsible,” Tzuyu pries his hands away, “And if you truly think I am being distant, I’ll try my best to include myself.”

She means it whole-heartedly, bringing about a tiny smile in reassurance.

“I suppose that will do, Tzuyu,” Pretending to wipe a tear from below his lids, he brings boice down to a hushed whisper. “Now, are you by any chance attracted to anybody as of right now?”

Ah, the _real_ motive.

Although her parents encouraged Tzuyu to see princes or princesses from different lands in hopes of a special ‘connection’, there was no real pressure. There was only a crunch in preparation to become a strong leader. And in truth, Tzuyu hadn’t thought that far ahead in the romance aspect of it all.

Of course, there were arranged marriages. She’d been brought about tens upon dozens of suitors, but they were really all the same types of people; gold diggers and pompous power-hungry men.

There were only a handful of women chosen - for as her father had called it a ‘ _wider scope for variety_ ’ - and Tzuyu had indeed taken more of a liking toward them, yet they all seemed to be lacking _something_ , as harsh as it sounds.

A spark clearly, but also the excitement and mysteriousness she’d longed for even in herself.

“No, Father, I am not.”

“No princes? No princesses?”

“Father-”

“Are you certain?”

“ _Yes_ , I am,” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Tzuyu’s _certain_ that she’s done with this little exchange. “If there is nothing left, I will be in my quarters.”

Before the King even opens his mouth to let out a sputter, Tzuyu’s off in the other direction.

Her door slams shut in a deafening thud, mostly from its hefty size, but also from her pent up frustration.

And so she sits on her bed, big enough for an estimation of six children, yet only one occupying it. She looks up to the ceiling, chandelier in place right above her as it burns brightly.

A single question raised in her mind.

Could it be possible that she is _lonely_?

* * *

  



	2. II

****

**-II-**

A few causes ring their way around Tzuyu’s head. She figures one could be that it’s the positive opinions circling about the village regarding the beloved gala the King and Queen had ultimately decided to be held this very day, that has them grinning from eye to eye while discussing matters to one another that luckily does not concern herself.

It’s a valid explanation, as she remembers passing by a crowd of servants on the way to the dining hall, stringing in hand all kinds of fancy golden and auburn decor, even the especially bizarre statues representing their leaders of old, which Tzuyu didn’t know they’d kept until recently. The noticeable cheeriness - even at its slightest - is visible coming from the Queen, a wrinkle of a smile adorning her tanned features.

But Tzuyu, herself, holds a little trace of resentment.

All this talk about a gala and Tzuyu has yet to be permitted to visit the village. It’s quite discouraging considering she’s the princess who has not once mingled with her own subjects.

She fiddles with the accessory cushioning itself in between her middle finger and her last one, the protea in the center gleaming as a ray of light throws itself at an angle.

For her own safety or for whatever reason she’d been fed, it’s no surprise her curiosity is able to get the best of her in certain situations.

But she just doesn’t think she’s truly able to do anything about this gala. Taking into account that it’s inclusive to civilians, there’d ought to be royal guards stationed at all corners.

“Tzuyu, dear,” Her mother’s warm tone pulls Tzuyu out of her thoughts, and she doesn’t miss the way the Queen eyes the ring on her finger for only a fraction of a second. “If you’re ruminating on a matter so important, I hope it would not trouble you when we advise that you familiarise yourself with the town later today.”

“Later today?” Tzuyu repeats, the difficulty of making the words roll off her tongue displaying.

“We planned to tell you much sooner, but what your Mother and I are trying to say is we’re allowing you to visit the gala,” The King clarifies, “Only under the supervision of our royal guards.”

“It’s about time you learn for yourself, child,” Her mother finally adds, although a bit rushed.

Tzuyu’s not a fool, as there must be another reason as to why they are all of a sudden being so lenient, however this is the first time she’s able to interact with anybody other than the castle’s maids.

And Tzuyu’s unexplainably ecstatic.

“Of course, this does not mean you are allowed to speak to the civilians.”

Her once neutral expression deepens into a frown, feeling her gut sinking. So Tzuyu protests, “I fail to see what the purpose would be if I am not to engage with-”

However her mother’s gaze holds an underlying message, as her eyes darken in a shade Tzuyu hasn’t witnessed before; an intimidating aura at its finest. Her rambling would severely fuel the flame if it hasn’t already, so Tzuyu lets out a defeated, “Understood, Father.”

Afterwards, she returns to her quarters with a rather empty stomach, and once more, Sana lies next to her. She holds a basket of bread steady on her chest, Tzuyu’s hand in her other.

“May I ask you a personal question, Sana?” When the maiden turns, Tzuyu is already gazing at her. Sana often forgets her beauty, but in the broad daylight, she can’t help herself to highlight her best parts with an invisible ink. “Are you afraid of change?”

One could say it’s neither good nor bad, yet Sana has had a lot of it. Change. She takes a while to form a response.

“I’ve never met someone who wasn’t,” Sana had grown up in a smaller village than this. Each person in it she’d had some sort of connection to, no matter how small; A bond among those of the same fate. When she moved to the castle, she knew it was for the better; To support the only people she knew of as family before her father and mother had passed, her two younger siblings.

To say she was afraid was an understatement, she was mortified. But she had a will that was much stronger than the fear that engulfed her.

“We all fear something,” Her voice drops to a mere whisper, Tzuyu‘s gaze unfaltering. Perhaps it’s in witnessing a new side to Sana, of which Tzuyu sees herself looking up to. The girl does have a few years on her, and despite her bubbly demeanour, her resolve was nothing short of weak. “But change is a special process. To fear it is to accept a part of yourself that is growing.”

Tzuyu observes the way half her face is shadowed by the drawn curtain, taking into light how the bridge of her nose is as sharp as her honeydew eyes; how her lips curve into a smile as she notices her staring.

“Don’t go falling for me now, Tzuyu,” Sana quips, the quietude breaking in a split second.

“Why ever would you think that?” Tzuyu counters, a clue of a blush engulfing her cheeks. “You are my closest friend, Sana.”

Sana pauses, “And you, mine, Your Highness.”

An interesting idea parades its way into Tzuyu’s head. One that she’s sure her mother would cease to encourage.

“Attend the gala with me, Sana.”

And she’s sure Sana’s jaw would unhinge itself from her head. “I could not even if I wanted to — I have duties, Tzuyu.”

“I’ll see to it that you’re excused from such,” Tzuyu smiles — the most genuine in a while. Is it unusual that Sana feels butterflies dancing in her stomach? “I only ask that you come with me, please. I promise you, we’d have a joyous time.”

How could Sana resist? It’s a tempting offer, and she’d get free time away from the castle she’d been living under the roofs of for probably most of her life.

But she only accepts it because it’s Tzuyu who’d offered it; It’s Tzuyu whom whenever she’s with, she gets all heartfelt — warm.

It’s herself that Sana wishes the Princess could see, beyond one of a confidant or even a friend, but maybe something — anything — more.

“Anything for you,” Sana lets it slip from her lips without any previous thought.

_Just once_ , she says to herself.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

A stiff neck and a still-asleep leg is what Jeongyeon wakes up to, which is expected because she’d literally fallen asleep on concrete, a bamboo mat slithered in between herself and the rocky material to serve as a poorly done mattress. Beside her, Jihyo, soundly asleep with an arm tucked under her head. Yesterday’s happenings might’ve tired her out a little more than she’d anticipated.

Out of pure instinct she does a quick survey of where she’d left their belongings; two satchels on her left — right where she’d placed them last night. A breath of relief escapes her mouth, gauging the weirdly-fashioned hut. A hut being a less complicated word for the structure of four shoots of bamboo cloaked with a large piece of fabric, pooling its edges onto the ground beneath her. The space itself isn’t cramped, per se, more so it’s clearly made for one person and she hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

An elaborate shelter, just not one she’d find herself under on any normal day.

Except a thief has made herself known and graciously offered her abode in exchange for.. nothing in particular.

“I haven’t stolen any of your stuff in case you were wondering,” Nayeon peeks her head through the slit, two paper bags in both hands, “Can’t say the same for these though,” She smirks, proudly shaking the bags in indication.

Jeongyeon averts her gaze, finding more interest in the stacks of hollowed out crates discarded at the far side of the hut, blatantly ignoring the woman stepping inside.

It’s pretty empty, but if anything, the place looked like a bartering booth with all the little trinkets and knick-knacks stacked upon crates and a single shelf that one could expect to find in a gallery. It’s no surprise that all of them are very much the stolen goods she’d taken for her own collection.

Nayeon rolls up the sleeves of her shirt, setting herself down on a strategically placed scruffy mat. “You aren’t planning on just giving me the cold shoulder for the whole morning are you?”

The question doesn’t come with a response, but Nayeon eyes Jeongyeon as she gets up to sit alongside her sister, still fast asleep.

As a child, she would try her best to protect Jihyo. Jeongyeon was older and naturally taller than all the town boys as a kid, making her especially domineering to those daring enough to spit nasty things at her. Even from childhood she had her morals that stuck with her until adulthood — that with violence nothing could be solved. She’d never attempted to initiate a blow, in return she’d ended up taking the bullet.

For Jeongyeon, scars and bruises were only temporary. She would never bear to let Jihyo suffer the same.

But that was ages ago, Jihyo's not a child anymore — she’s an independent and capable woman.

Still...

“You seem to care a lot about her,” Her reverie is broken by Nayeon’s unwanted input, “Your lover.”

Jeongyeon nearly chokes on her spit. “She’s not my lover, she’s my sister.”

“Ah, my mistake,” Nayeon notes, “You two look nothing alike, it was hard to tell,” Out of one of the paper bags, she takes a loaf of bread, splitting it into a rough half and tossing the other to Jeongyeon.

Jeongyeon mumbles a ‘thank you’, taking a large bite, “We aren’t of the same father.”

It’s silent, the only noise afterwards being Jihyo’s light snoring humming in the air. Nayeon shuffles in her place, unsure of how to respond. “I didn’t mean to go there, I apologise.”

It’s uncanny how one minute the people you steal from happen to be under your roof the next; an understandable excuse for the deafening awkwardness.

“This festival, how long will it last?” Jeongyeon probes, changing the subject. The sooner they’re out, the better. Making friends with a delinquent from a gang isn’t something favourable on Jeongyeon’s to-do list. She does the addition in her head, and concludes that the route from carriage would be the fastest and cheapest if they left the way they came. She’d never really partake in any village events, but surely it wouldn’t last for more than a single day.

“I have not the slightest idea. But I’d say.. no less than a week,” Nayeon guesses. It seems the whole universe is against Jeongyeon these days. “The royal family is quite picky with their festivities.”

Right, she and her sister have just gotten themselves involved in a town with a financially privileged population. Which is strange, all things considered; Nayeon, a supposed gang leader with accommodation no bigger than their living room. Jeongyeon only grows more curious of how similar their situations are despite being on the complete opposite side of the map.

She shakes those thoughts away, focusing on the matter at hand; they are to be trapped in this place for days.

“Why are you doing this?”

Nayeon’s chewing comes to a halt, a cat-eyed gaze meeting with Jeongyeon’s rounder ones. Purer ones.

“In case you forgot, you’ve asked that once before already.”

Honestly, doing a little good wouldn’t harm anyone. Given her history of ‘problematic deeds’ just feeling like doing so is a plausible explanation. She just.. felt like it. Could it possibly be any deeper than that?

Jeongyeon watches her gaze drop to Jihyo, her collar top a little dirtied as it rises and falls at the motion of her breathing, her lidded eyes twitching ever so slightly at the light filtering its way through the patch of net through the top of the hut.

“There’s no reason for my judgement,” Nayeon says nonchalantly, clapping her hands together to dust off the bread crumbs clinging to her fingers. “I may be a thief, but leaving muttonheads like you out in the open is the equivalent of feeding two chickens to a sea of hungry piranhas. I’m only making us even now.”

“You severely underestimate us,” At first glance, the thief easily passes as such. Nayeon looks as though she would bite someone’s head off if you rubbed her the wrong way. The way she carries herself is a dead giveaway too; her chin raised to the sky, looking down upon those who cross her. Their first interaction had gotten off on the wrong foot, for sure, and Nayeon had clearly left a malicious impression on Jeongyeon.

But the more Nayeon opens her mouth, the more she’s able to catch a small glimpse of what type of person this thief is. Her astute observation gifted her an edge in several instances, and this isn’t any exception.

“You also aren’t making the slightest bit of sense,” Jeongyeon lowers her chin, “There’s something more to it.”

Nayeon lets out a hearty laugh, and Jeongyeon has a peep at her bunny teeth as it rings. “You seem so confident with that, so I’ll let you down slowly and simply say that’s incorrect.”

Her smile is quickly replaced with a devilish smirk.

“Tell you what,” Nayeon suggests, crawling up to the space opposite Jeongyeon and making herself comfortable. “I, for one, think we leave all that past nonsense behind us and call a truce.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jeongyeon dryly says, “If you even think for a second that we’d ever trust you, you’re wrong.”

“Hold on, I never said anything about trusting me. We’re only settling in between a grey area. Don’t be stubborn, now,” Nayeon holds out a hand. “I’m Nayeon.”

A huff spills from her mouth before she reluctantly shakes it. Only before Nayeon loosens her grip, Jeongyeon tightens hers. “This is only to inform you that this is not a truce.”

“I beg to differ; you shaking my hand is very much the same as —”

“Give it a rest, you two,” Laid sandwiched problematically in between the quarrelling duo, an awoken Jihyo slaps their hands away in post-slumber annoyance. “Your voices are an utter nuisance,” She darkly mumbles.

Both promptly back away at the woman’s threatening tone; Jeongyeon going off to the side to pack up her satchel, while Nayeon takes her original spot on the bamboo mat.

A faint ticking captures Jihyo’s attention, the muted coiling of a spring pricking her ears. A clock. Though judging by the unorthodox sounds coming from it, it isn’t functioning correctly. She grunts while getting up, locating the source of the soft chiming and peeks through the cracked plank of a dusty crate.

“It’s ancient. That thing hasn’t been working for years,” Without looking up, she registers Nayeon’s voice. “I doubt you’ll find anything interesting out of it.”

Reaching her hand into the crate, she pulls out the object in question; a spring driven shelf clock — a bracket clock to be exact — with a faded lacquered rosewood as well as a matching fogged up crystal. It’s anything but in good condition. Jihyo’s experience with clockwork mechanisms gets the better of her curiosity. “Not with that attitude I won’t.”

The fact that Jihyo carries around tools for repair stuns Nayeon as she fishes them out to get to work on the antique.

“I’m sorry, do you mind?” Jihyo inquires doubtfully, looking up at the woman watching her with a dumbfounded expression while Nayeon’s lips vaguely part.

“I don’t care for it, so do whatever pleases you,” Almost as if the very existence of the collectible spite her, she absents herself out the hut, “I’ll return soon. Try not to break anything that isn’t already broken.”

And with that, Jihyo continues tweaking at the timepiece, brows scrunch in concentration as her tongue juts out in between her lips.

“First thing you do when you wake is to mend a stranger’s clock who, mind you, had once successfully swiped us out of a presumably valuable item.”

“You know how much it irks me to see a discarded but completely repairable mechanical machine,” Jihyo justifies, a brow arched toward her sister leaning up against the wall. “And I don’t think she’s as ill-natured as you surmise.”

The thing is, Jeongyeon finds it hard to agree, though her sister is normally right about these things.

“You always did see the better in people. You’re just like how Mother was,” Jeongyeon released in a single fragile breath.

Although of different fathers, the two were especially close to their mother that had taken care of them growing up. She was nothing short of selfless, and strong. Most of all, her loving nature was how Jeongyeon and Jihyo were brought up to be today; inseparable and diligent.

Jihyo carries on tweaking at the instrument, “Isn’t it nearing, Jeong?” She asks with a sad smile. It’s a date they both know full well, and has also been racked in Jeongyeon’s mind for the past few days.

“I couldn’t forget even if I tried. It’s unfortunate that instead of maintaining our usual traditions, we’re stranded in an area so foreign to us.”

“Nothing is stopping us from having those traditions. Perhaps.. a small change is what the universe wishes for us.”

“Everything was fine, we didn’t —”

“ — need change,” Her sister finishes with a playful eye roll, hands still busy with the mechanism. “You say that all the time that you almost sound afraid of it.”

Something bubbles inside Jeongyeon. A pang of truth like she’d just gotten shot with a dart to her chest. “Afraid? Is that how you think of me?” She accuses, surveying eyes on Jihyo.

“Tell me this, Jeong, have you ever considered something other than stealing to make a living?” Jihyo doesn’t mean for it to sound hostile, she’s truly curious about what her sister has to say. This, of course, puts her in an unwanted spotlight but how else is she going to prove her point?

“We aren’t going to talk about this now, Ji,” It’s too early in the day, and Jeongyeon’s plain tired.

“Then when? When Chaeyoung drags you into more trouble? When you finally get caught by the authorities?”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

Jeongyeon’s voice unknowingly raises in volume from her temper, while Jihyo’s tone sustains control. “What I’m saying,” She starts gently, “And I mean it as your sister, is that you can have something more if you just allow yourself to.”

Arguing with Jihyo is pointless. Jeongyeon could never win because she knows her all too well to the point where it’s possible for her to predict her every move. Instead, she yields. All trace of irritation leaving her being as she collects herself.

“You’d think it would’ve happened by now,” Jeongyeon says after a moment’s reflection. “Not everyone is able to get what they want in the end.”

Entirely unaware of the matters outside, Nayeon has just happened to eavesdrop on their personal conversation. She decides not to bring it up once she steps back inside, clearing her throat to draw their attention.

Jeongyeon’s gaze drops as soon as it lofts, uninterested in her return. Nayeon’s vision then pans to Jihyo, who still has her clock in hand. “Have.. you eaten?” There’s an offhanded politeness in her tone, surprising Jeongyeon and the woman herself. “I’d left some bread on the way out.”

“I have not,” Rather taken aback by the woman’s concern, Jihyo naturally responds in the same manner, “I often refrain from eating straight after I wake.”

Apparently, Nayeon’s not an entirely good conversationalist, standing loosely with her hands fiddling with the cuffs on her rolled-up sleeves. She opens her mouth to say something but the words don’t fall out, instead Jihyo’s voice cuts through.

“It didn’t need much work. The clock had been dropped, consequently the thin brass mount where the pendulum attached had been bent. But since it was only by so much, I could easily straighten the mount to fix it,” Jihyo explains with a satisfied grin, “Have a look.”

Jihyo gives her the clock, then Nayeon runs her finger along its wooden casing.

“I- uhm- thank you,” Nayeon manages to stammer out.

Nayeon thinks there must be something wrong with her as she feels a burning sensation at the tips of her ears when Jihyo flashes her sparkling eyes, “It isn’t any problem, Nayeon.”

Hearing her name spilling from the latter’s mouth, makes herself aware of the dryness racking in Nayeon’s throat.

“Oh? I thought it hadn’t meant anything to you?” Jeongyeon teases with her arms crossed as she looks between her sister and the thief. The whole goody-two-shoes act this person is fronting won’t trick Jeongyeon a second time.

“I am only expressing my gratitude,” She says in biting fashion and a steely look. Jeongyeon notices as the woman takes one last fond look at her functioning timepiece, and she places it on the nearby shelf.

“Anyhow, I can now confirm that the festival is going to last for about six days. The first part of which begins tonight,” Nayeon shares, “This is the first time the royal family is holding a gala for its civilians. There’s likely to be a crowd, as many wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the Princess herself.”

The Princess? She’d be lying if Jeongyeon says her interest isn’t piqued.

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, “As in the royal family’s daughter?”

“Strangely enough, she hasn’t shown her face to the public until today. Many speculate it’s for protective measures, which truthfully isn’t that far off. Royalty is filled with controlling tyrants. If you ask me, the gala is only a method for manipulation.”

There’s evident distaste in her tone, bringing Jeongyeon to theorize that she has a special bone to pick with the sort. Jihyo’s chirpy tone pulls her out of her thoughts.

“It sounds interesting, we should definitely stop by. Partly because of the Princess, but we should also make the most of the circumstances we’re in.”

She knows Jihyo has a point for the most part, except Jeongyeon’s trust issues have elevated immensely since they’ve arrived. “Are you sure that’d be a good idea?”

“There you go again; always with the negativity. We’re going whether you like it or not, you grouch,” Jihyo says, crinkling her nose.

Maybe she should just keep silent. After all, it’s not like her own sister would listen. The woman throws caution to the wind, never turning her back on something exciting; Jeongyeon is the complete opposite and the summoner of all caution. Jeongyeon and Jihyo grab their satchels, and Nayeon shows the way out as she ducks and pushes past the thick fabric of the hut creating an opening.

It’s time for Jeongyeon to relax. Go with the flow, as per her sister’s phrases. Then she releases a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding, and follows suit.

This might possibly be refreshing.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Tzuyu’s never one for the extensive use of furs and highly expensive materials that they made her wear for such occasions. Although the silks for trimming looked wonderful, and golden threads for lace work were expertly done, Tzuyu could hardly breathe. Right now, she only wishes to see herself out.

On a step stool in her bedroom, maids tug at her corset to fasten it. She supposes Sana is preparing to leave the castle at this very moment. Tzuyu had informed Sana beforehand of her arrangements to be an anticipated appearance, and had given her instructions to await her when she’d finished her duty. The very thought of being shown on a display like some sort of object made her jaw clench, but alas, it is to be fulfilled.

The horizon begins to darken as it peeks at her from the window panes, symbolising the welcoming of the gala’s lights shining beneath them outside the walls of the castle. As far as her knowledge of it goes, the Aureum Leaves signifies the transformation upon one’s kingdom; An annual blessing of previous generations as tradition. Tzuyu could not dismiss the efforts of her parents in wanting to make it a formal event for all.

From what she’s told, they would gather with one another and present gifts of many sorts as a way to express respect and adoration. Just then, it occurs to her that her mother’s ring was likely gifted to her in that manner.

Her mother would never partake in commoners’ traditions, so she disregards the idea. Still, it is of her own doing to wear the accessory during the gala, there’s no doubt she feels a distinct pull toward the item in question.

“Your Highness,” Elkie curtsies low, a hand to support Tzuyu’s as she steps off the stool. “Shall we escort you to the gates?”

“Yes, you shall,” The King and Queen would be expecting her to be punctual for such a pivotal function. She’d done this a million times in front of suitors, but why does this make her nervous?

She courtly makes her way down the grand carpeted staircase, two lines of royal guards positioned at either sides of the walkway to the main doors. Proud grins grace her parents’ faces as Tzuyu steps closer, the thrumming of her heart ever so slowly quickens as she does.

“You look as beautiful as ever, my dear,” Her mother unexpectedly chimes, “There isn’t a single doubt in my mind. They will all adore you,” Tzuyu remains tight-lipped, but brings out an acknowledging grin to be polite.

She’s used to being praised for her beauty, as vain as it sounds. Tzuyu always wonders if they truly mean it from the heart, or if it’s a formality. Either way, it makes her experience a consistent and rather discerning unease.

“There is no pressure, I assure you, Tzuyu,” It is her father who speaks this time, and a weight of worry lifts from her chest, “I believe in your influence. You are destined for many great things, and this is only the first stepping stone as to such.”

The wide entryway is still closed shut, guards awaiting for orders while standing by. Hoots of trumpets begin to sound from outside the gates signalling her presence, followed with the bellow of her own name in emphasis of her arrival. It is then when the doors draw open in a resounding creak, coming to a thud as it hinges to its furthest.

She’s hoping it would be anticlimactic, that people would steal a glance then turn away and carry on with their business. Instead, quite the opposite happens as she stops dead center to a circular, elevated platform in the main square of the royal grounds as rehearsed; behind the path lined with more guards, gather the wealthy families of the northern division and their children. They stare in frozen awe, some jaws left agape while murmurs in the crowd grow intense. Yet Tzuyu keeps her head held high, not losing her composure for even a fraction of a second.

Pairs of wide eyes watch her expectantly, perhaps for an uplifting speech that Tzuyu has not one clue about or even prepared for prior to this. Her nerves threaten to take over her being with the multitude of people gawking at her presence. Remembering her parents’ words, she tries to muster up a swell of courage to collect a few phrases of encouraging spirit.

“Today we gather to celebrate the Aureum Leaves, a tradition of which we may pay tribute to those before us who may reign everlasting. It is truly an honor to be able to come forth and welcome the season,” Tzuyu declares, throwing her voice at the crowd. The rest of her speech comes in a wave, towering over her people with a heavy sway, like how she’s always been groomed to. Her directness is able to speak volumes among the people intent on hearing the Princess for the very first time in person.

And at this stage, most would perceive her to be the immediate spitting image of the Queen, a firm and steady pronouncement while her posture presents an empowering aura. She’d not prefer to be called the shell of her parents, as she is her own person. At some times, it proves the contrary.

Tzuyu knows not of what circulates beyond the castle walls, and she could care less. She’s set to picture her own image that would imprint itself on each civilian standing before her today. That’s a principle Tzuyu writes in stone today, and will abide by without fault.

She ends with a sigh held under her breath, and thankfully, she receives a round of positive cheers, hats carelessly thrown into the air along with joyous fists. This is certainly not the reaction she’d thought she’d get out of her poorly done and prolonged speech. All in all, a good reaction is better than none, and inside Tzuyu, blossoms the tiniest sense of pride. An enlightening feeling that made the adrenaline shoot up her spine.

She makes a mental note to relay this to Sana later on, making haste of returning to her quarters and waiting until she’s alone to be able to change into more discreet and comfortable attire for her escapades with the maid.

“I do hope I am not disturbing you, Your Highness,” Sana jokes as she pushes the doors open, clicking the door shut after checking they aren’t to be spied on. “How bold of you to sneak out of the castle.”

“You almost scared me to death, Sana,” Tzuyu spins around, a hand over her chest in near shock, “What they do not know will not bear any consequences. I trust that we’ll take heed of any danger.”

Sana’s rather amused by her choice in garments, a scrappy hood draped over her long figure of which is clad in a gown of the same monotonous chestnut shade. Even in her current state of dress, Sana still thinks she isn’t anything short of beautiful, “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be cloaking yourself in peasants’ clothing. It does suit you well, if I do say so myself.”

“Is that an insult? You shall pay dearly for that, Sana,” Tzuyu cracks a joke, making her way to a bottom drawer that not even the maids knew of, and reveals a wheel of thick rope.

“How are we supposed to do this?”

“Like a desperate prince and a fair maiden stuck in a tower,” Like any sane princess, Tzuyu keeps a stack of rope for worst case scenarios. One can never be too careful, and in this case, it really comes in handy, “We use rope.”

“Elaborate,” The playful tone earns a giddy chuckle from the Princess, materfully tying one end of the rope to a sturdy hook stationed atop one of her windows making sure it’s tightly fastened with a sharp tug, “It's now or never, Princess.”

The rope’s length is long enough to pool on the soft grass stories beneath. Luckily for them, the Princess’ quarters are far enough away from view, the shadows of the setting sun further disguising them in plain sight. Gusts of wind lifts Tzuyu’s hair from the windowsill while her gloved hand below the other grasping the rope allows Tzuyu a taste of the freedom she’d longed for. The Princess fearlessly preps herself onto the windowsill and glances at her wide-eyed friend over her shoulder with a smile so bright, it only looks as if she’s about to jump into bed rather than scaling down the royal walls.

Something itches in Sana’s chest, while it flutters and skips a beat, she tries to resist it.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Nayeon leads them through many shortcuts; several twists and turns through the dark, congested walls that only appear to stretch for miles. _So much for a shortcut_ , Jeongyeon thinks as they circle around a corner and they’re met by yet another identical narrow corridor. Very little light leaks through the slit-like opening from the sky, and Jeongyeon is as blind as a bat.

Nayeon on the other hand appears to have no difficulty, every so often using a palm to tap the walls, “Are you sure this is a quicker route? How are you even able to navigate through here?”

“When you’re raised around these parts, you get fairly familiar,” Nayeon answers without missing a beat, “This is the last bend before we reach the gap, so stop whining Jeongyeon.”

Nayeon puts an extra emphasis on the last part, since she happened to pick up the name after Jihyo had dropped it multiple times, and for that Jeongyeon presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’d hate to be the mediator between the two of you bickering,” Jihyo puts it to an end before it even begins, growing tired of the pair’s new habit to pick a bone with one another, “So what do you like to do, Nayeon?”

That was out of nowhere, catching Nayeon unprepared. What does she like to do? Other than the usual scheming tricks and scams she’d pull on countless civilians twenty-four seven?

“Petting dogs, I guess,” That’s simple enough, right? Everybody likes dogs to some extent. They have soft fur and a special kind of loyalty one could not find in others, “A friend of mine had one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Jihyo falters.

“No, you’re mistaken. It didn’t die,” Nayeon’s tone shifts to one of slight melancholy if Jihyo’s hearing it right, “The owner.. I haven’t spoken to her in ages.”

Jeongyeon listens to their short exchange from behind, growing wary of the change of emotion in a split second. Not wanting to ruin it, she continues to keep her mouth shut as Jihyo drops the subject. “Are the people you intervened with acquaintances of yours?”

She must be referring to the incident from a day ago. A humorless laugh escapes her lips, “Would acquaintances tremble under your mere existence?”

Jihyo bites the inside of her cheek, eyes meeting with Jeongyeon’s as they arrive at a clearing branching off to four different sections. Broken and mossy pillars tower and meet at the center forming a dome. Dripping of water ripples onto the cobbled ground, the only other noise the dragging of their feet. It’s when a shrill jolt is sent up Jeongyeon’s spine that she halts every action. “There’s something wrong here.”

Instinctively, Nayeon takes it to herself to pull the dagger attached to the side of her thigh, going into a defensive stance.

“Honestly, Nay, it’s pathetic to see you be so gullible.”

There’s no way. They, again, find themselves cornered by another gang. No, the exact same delinquents from the other day, if that voice doesn’t say otherwise. Sickenly blonde, Momo closes in on the group with her goons nowhere to be found, a daunting smile tugging at her lips,

Nayeon is simply unamused by the turn of events, “What are you playing at, Hirai? You don’t seem to recall that I gave you your shares days ago.”

Momo crosses a leg over her other, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants, “And I sincerely thank you for that, but this isn’t about that. It’s about those two and how you seem to have taken a liking to them,” She inches dangerously close to Nayeon’s space. Not backing down, Nayeon chooses to stand her ground. “Aren’t we supposed to be comrades?” Clear that she’d eavesdropped, Momo feigns hurt with a jutted lip.

“Frankly, that isn’t any of your business.”

“Wow, Nayeon, you really aren’t fun anymore. There’s no need to be so formal with me, the others aren’t here right now,” Momo remarks, tone pointed and unwavering, “I really can’t recall the last time we had a heart to heart.”

The same goes for Nayeon, really. In fact, it was just the two of them for most of their teen years, running a petty thieving business at 14 and 15. It was actually kind of impressive. What else were they supposed to do without people to support them, let alone a roof over their heads? It was everybody for themselves and for Momo and Nayeon, they chose each other.

If anything, Momo’s the one who’d changed the most. Their usual ‘harmless’ scams were what kept her and Nayeon going for a while, which was long before the others had shown up when word got around of the infamous duo. Instead, the rush immediately got into Momo’s head. One could say that was what drove her to become increasingly violent; of course, the others went along with it only to boost their influence among the rest of the homeless.

Nayeon had never expressed her hatred for it, let alone confronted Momo. But Nayeon had tried her best to put her on a leash — hence the ‘lackey’ system as to which she soon found out Momo had no problem with as long as she’d get to have her ‘fun’ — to keep from hurting others, but the most Momo would do is pretend to scurry off in fear then wash, rinse, repeat on other unsuspecting people. She knew Momo was bound to get sick of it soon enough.

She ultimately admits that she was the one who put the distance between them. Their relationship might already be too far gone to salvage, but the last thing she’d want to do is hurt the person she’d once shared everything with.

“What is it that you want?” Her stare bores into Momo.

“You’re taking the usual shortcut to the castle, so this has something to do with the royal family. Honestly, Nay, I thought you got over typical royal affairs ages ago,” Momo slowly circles the woman in question while also checking out the strange architecture around them, “Unless you never did after that sad little—”

“I’m not asking you again, Momo. What the hell do you want?” Exasperation is evident with her eye contact as she cuts her off. She’s fully aware of what chord she’s trying to strike with her and she isn’t going to sit there and take it.

Momo sighs, “Isn’t it obvious? I want to come. I heard the Princess is going to show and I want to be there when she does. Nothing more, nothing less,” She abruptly turns and leans back to have a nice view of Jeongyeon and Jihyo, “And I’m also very interested in these two.”

The two, in short, are baffled by the sudden occurrence unravelling before them and as a result, speechless.

“For old times sake?” Momo coaxes.

Nayeon can’t find it in her to refuse; She blames it on her lingering past, “Fine, but you walk ahead.”

“You’re really no fun.”

After getting through the sheltered area, they cross a small glade of fresh land, now being surrounded by a larger group of civilians. It serves well for them, making it quite hard to single them out considering they’re very much outsiders. Nayeon isn’t too concerned about getting picked off by a few ‘richies’ — as she calls them — and instead weaves their way through the mass that floods into the large castle gates entering the main square.

It’s a massive area fit for the town’s own square however it’s closed off from the public for the royal family’s special uses, one including functions like these, which for some reason Nayeon could care less about, happens once in a blue moon.

They reach a small area far from a commotion that seems to be going on near the center. Multiple trumpets sound, and a man of short stature — Nayeon snickers at the revelation — yells a few words at the top of his lungs, an echoing creak following.

“Why did everybody just go silent?” Jeongyeon questions, squinting her eyes at the source of each one’s attention, “Is something about to happen?”

“Are we to see the King and Queen?” Jihyo’s on the tips of her toes, trying her best to look over the staggering height of the crowd.

“I doubt it, they’re much like the Princess and almost never present themselves. But unlike how everybody knows of their faces well, the Princess herself is a mystery until today.” Don’t get her wrong, Nayeon couldn’t care less of the royal mess that is the garbage system they’re under, but the news of the Princess’ sudden appearance does strike some interest.

“All these people for the occasion just to see her face? That’s boggling,” Jihyo whispers, a hand to Nayeon’s shoulder to support herself from losing balance.

Momo flashes a sly grin at the woman used as a means of support, “Oh, you’d be surprised how deprived these richies are of something exciting.”

The air grows still while they all wait in anticipation of the woman rumored to be bound by the walls of her own abode. They were all theories and questions about what type of person she’d be, what she’d wished to happen to this village, how similar was she to the King and Queen who’d raised her all these years.

“The only descendant of the royal family, is one whom they wouldn’t disclose her face,” As Nayeon trails off, the hushed exchanges from the onlookers rise.

The orange hue from the dimming sun setting itself upon the square makes it all the more dramatic, as a woman adorned with the whitest silks falling shoulder down struts down the path and onto the small platform at the very front. Resting upon the very crook of her neck are the finest diamonds they’ve ever seen, glinting with each of her poised and elegant movements. She reminds them of a lioness towering over her pack, her voice as sweet as honey and just as full of depth as the tranquil sea.

Yet, at the same time, her aura is near chilling — a glacial boundary of icy walls. Her lengthy brown locks curtain the exposed skin below her neck, all the same framing the mellow features of her petite face. She’s the closest embodiment of sophistication.

Similarly to the quietude of their reactions during her speech, the townspeople witnessing the same event share the same response; which is the lack of one. That is until they all start cheering and whooping like a pack of wild animals.

Momo sighs and throws her head back before muttering and looking away, Nayeon taking a glance at the woman’s odd action, “They had to ruin the moment.”

“You can’t blame them for waiting decades for this,” Momo suppresses a tight laugh.

“All the commotion then they’re back to locking her up in that castle of theirs. A shame, really. Turns out they’re only afraid the townspeople would take a liking to such a beautiful maiden,” Momo’s feet turn on their own toward the flow of people heading toward the many festivities and booths, “How much food do you think they sell here, Nay?”

“I could care less, go do your thing,” The remark sounds harsh, but that’s most of how they talk. Momo gives off a shrug before heading off out of view. Jeongyeon and Jihyo, seemingly in their own little world, are still enthralled by the scene that had just played before them. They’re just out of earshot — having separated from them to have small dialogue with Momo — so the only thing Nayeon could make out are the enthusiastic hand gestures Jihyo’s flailing around as well as Jeongyeon’s wide-mouthed laughs.

Were she and Momo ever that closely knit? She doesn’t think so. Their friendship — if you can even call it that — was born out of survival instinct. At the time, she didn’t have any other options. Nayeon took it upon herself to learn that it’s much too late to yearn for any sort of lasting relationship.

~~Not after her.~~

She rejoins the small group, a timid and out-of-character smile playing at her lips. Jeongyeon’s piercing stare at the woman softening as Jihyo strikes up a conversation and even slips in a joke with her. It doesn’t take much for Nayeon to reciprocate a giggle, bunny teeth peeking out while she expresses her glee.

Jeongyeon still doesn’t think she’s a good person. But she’s aware it’s highly hypocritical of her to do so, so it’s certain that it isn’t her final judgement. Who is she to judge anyway? Jihyo seems to have taken a liking to her, despite the small timespan of the occurrence. Why is it so hard for her to do the same?

Time flies by quickly, as they visit and circle around almost every stall. It’s then when Jeongyeon really takes the time to savour the sweetness of it all; the amber and rosy tones of the big bright banners and showy flags held up with thin string hoisted above wooden statues and poles, the lampposts of the same warm shades accentuating the euphoric environment of families and their children along with all the lovers hand-in-hand.

Jihyo drags the two along, by their arms or even pinching at their clothing, to classical con games like ‘knock down the cups with a ball’ — which Nayeon effortlessly wins without any fuss — and the less technical ‘guess the weight of this pumpkin’ — all thanks to Jeongyeon and Nayeon’s collaborative skills to mess with the pan scale beforehand — earning them a good few baskets of baked goods and cute little mementos that Nayeon would most definitely use to decorate her little hut with.

It’s rather ridiculous to Jeongyeon how the swindler who got them into this mess in the first place is now being all goody-goody with them— especially Jihyo which raises multiple questions in Jeongyeon’s head. The two seem to be enjoying each other’s company, and as much as Jeongyeon’s clearly bothered by Nayeon’s existence, she chooses to act civil on Jihyo’s behalf and leave them be. Besides, there’s a good chance she’d find something worthwhile to do here other than tailing the new duo and their adventures.

In her peripheral, she catches a bustle of townspeople gathered on a small stage-like set-up, gasping out ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ like enamoured children — granted there are children in the crowd, but really the way they’re reacting is somewhat alike in a state of wonder. Burning with curiosity, Jeongyeon’s feet lead her to the performance where dancers twirl their batons on stage in synchronized execution, colors lifting off their wooden instruments in a dusty cloud of yellows and oranges.

She’s entranced by the fluidity of the show, how each dancer steps with a feathery lightness, contrasting with the bursts of color from their brightly powdered hands and feet. She knows not a thing about dance, but she could tell a good show when she sees one. Complimenting the extravagance before her are the brilliant shimmering tones of.. wind instruments, as if they’re fluttering along with the dancers’ movements.

“Those are the best dancers from the entire village, if you hadn’t already guessed,” Jeongyeon nearly stumbles back, Momo creeping closer as she smirks at the woman’s recoil, “I’d be up there too, if I had the money, of course.”

“You can dance?” Jeongyeon narrows her eyes, mouth slightly parted at the disclosure.

“We all carry some sort of second blade,” Momo asserts, eyes still trained on the performance. It nears the end, as indicated with the tricks increasing in intensity and tempo running at a haste, “Speaking of, I know with one-hundred percent certainty what yours is.”

“You kept your hands by your side the whole time we were here, like you were trying to stop your impulses,” She’s that much closer to Jeongyeon as she leans in, tilting her head in a knowing gaze, “Do you find stealing.. _addictive_?”

The light and airy singing of the wind instruments come to an instantaneous stop, Jeongyeon attention falters and flits back to the stage, performers posing in their final dynamic positions. The civilians give a round of applause.

Momo draws her back in with a hand to her chin, “I’m just like that, you know. It’s a temptation. Even if you don’t need it, you can’t just pull away. It eats at you, it consumes you.”

Jeongyeon shakes her head furiously, “We’re— I’m— I’m not like that.”

“You’re exactly that,” The townspeople disperse into other areas, given that the show had already ended, and it leaves the two of them left idle in the backdrop of reds and oranges. “It’s cute how you aren’t aware of it.”

As a knee-jerk reaction, Jeongyeon strides backward, putting some distance between them like it would stop Momo from reading her ~~almost like an open book, at that.~~

And like a miracle, Momo actually does. Pouting, she huffs out, “If you’re getting uncomfortable by me, that’s fine. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jeongyeon has never felt so invaded by anyone in her life. It’s like the woman had been itching to confront her ever since the encounter. What kind of a person is she? She barely did a thing yet it sends chills crawling up the path of her spine.

She makes a move to brush past her shoulder as she walks in her direction toward Jeongyeon. “Though it’s kind of hard to miss how your hands were shaking.”

Shaking? Jeongyeon darts her vision to both her hands held out in front of her, and there they’re held, very clearly trembling. _What the hell?_

Like a figment of her imagination, Momo’s gone with the autumn wind.

Suddenly the uplifting music, the mix of bodies in a single area, the aroma of flowers and blossoms are all too much. It’s dizzying. There’s a stinging pricking in the corners of both her eyes, no tears fall but she can’t help but feel like it’s threatening to release. Jeongyeon just needs to breathe, that’s all.

Albeit, this is the first time something like this has ever happened to her. Is she getting anxious? Or did that blonde hit her too close for comfort? Whatever it may be, all judgement is clouded in her poor attempt to not appear as though she’s drunk while she trudges to the nearest stable structure she can get her hands on.

It’s sickening to her that with a few sour words she’s reduced to this mess. Feeling around, she makes out the texture of thick bark. All surrounding noise gets muffled and she figures she’s either a great distance away from the cluster or she’s about to pass out from the massive headache she’s experiencing at any given moment.

How she keeps ending up in these situations, Jeongyeon’s too damn fatigued to come up with any conclusions. Although, she’s fairly sure it’ll all go back to some self deprecating factor her own mind would bring up.

She’s pathetic. She’s hardly able to keep her own emotions in control. And right now, she wishes the ground to just swallow her up, leaving no trace of herself left behind.

Jihyo’s words come back to her, ‘You can have something more if you just allow yourself to.’

A lot of the time, Jeongyeon wishes she could be as charismatic and independent as Jihyo. She had no problem getting farther in life. Perhaps if she was of a rich upbringing, Jihyo would be a successful entrepreneur.

And she’d probably still be stuck at the bottom of the food chain. Even her self loathing right now makes her feel that much more pathetic. Because in her eyes, everybody else seems to be sprinting, while she’s stuck jogging in one place. It’s overwhelming as is.

So Jeongyeon tries to doze off, she really tries. Only there’s an incessant ringing in her left ear. No, now it’s her right. Or perhaps both at the same time. Whatever it is, she can’t get it to go away, so in utmost frustration, she collides her fist with the tree’s brown root beside where she leans. She immediately registers the pain, but her knuckles aren’t bleeding that much.

“Hello?”

_What now?_

A soft voice — recognizable? At her current state, Jeongyeon is anything but sure — a body looms over hers in cloaked attire. She couldn’t bother opening her eyes a second time after, so she hopes they’ll leave her alone if she pretends to be dead.

Which.. doesn’t work because if anything, there isn’t any indication that the person had left, instead only growing far more concerned.

Maybe they’ll think she’s drunk?

“This isn’t any place for a woman alone in the woods.”

Smells like strawberries.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Because lying under a tree is of great comfort, I assume.”

They have a point there.

“Leave me alone,” Jeongyeon blurts, it’s the pain talking for her and her bluntness is wholly (maybe) unintentional, “Please.”

“Your hands are bleeding,” Her eyes remain closed, trying to mentally soothe herself — obviously not working out — from the pain focused on both her temples and her damaged hand. Another feeling she’s able to sense is one of gentle skin against her bruised knuckles. Promptly, she hisses in pain, drawing it away slowly, “Let me help you.”

“I’ve done enough trusting for one day,” is all she mumbles under her breath. Her hand falls limp in the person’s clutches, head falling back on the wood behind her, a sign she’s passed out.

“Is that so?”

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter! :) <3
> 
> We’re getting to Jeongyeon and Tzuyu’s development so please be patient :))


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here’s a short update for Chapter III :) if you want, you can find me at twt: @sugarsanayeonie

**III**

For the most part, life in the village was perfect. Jeongyeon had a loving mother, an equally as kind sister, and a warm home. It was all she could ever ask for. Even back then, Jeongyeon and Jihyo had a handful of friends with whom they’d make snowmen during colder seasons, even skated with nothing but scraps for shoes on the frozen-over lake by the hill.

Those were some of the childhood memories that stuck with her the most; the ones where snow would tickle her short lashes and land on her tongue. Winter. If there was anything that’d brought her joy, it was the reminder of a time she’d spend huddled next to the fireplace with Jihyo, both curled in their mother’s arms.

But there were things she could not remember. Only memories she’d able to catch small glimpses of from time to time when the snow eventually fell.

Children are known to be of the stubborn sort. Some throw tantrums and cry, others keep to themselves all silent and pouty. When it came to Jeongyeon, she’d run away, and far as her little legs could carry her. She’d gotten in trouble with her mother, and being a child, rational options seemed to be null. They were somewhere.. far off at the time, and all she could see was pure white, her mittens freezing to the tip and scrappy shoes thinning and wearing after only minutes of treading.

The terrain changed and Jeongyeon tripped; it was dried mud.. or dirt. Her breath laboured and with each step growing heavy, she’d stopped. And the white wasn’t the only thing she saw for the first time. Instead what came into view were large hedges, decorated with a thin sheet of snow at the very top. It was double her height, so there wasn’t much she could do. But being that small, she’d found a hole big enough to crawl through; an opening.

She’d heard of vast pieces of land of which take up beautiful plants, a refuge from the cold world outside; A safe haven. Not to say that they've never had gardens back at home, but not ones this big and this colorful. What was once a shining shade of white, turned into scattered hues of flourishing greens, some flamboyant pinks, and not to mention, the brightest blues that Jeongyeon had ever seen. 

A field of flowers, untainted by the flakes of snow. As she prodded at the turquoise petals with her shivering unclothed fingers, finding that they too, were icy to the touch. She couldn’t help but be enraptured with the way it glowed like something mystical out of a storybook.

Her breath comes out in a fog, the muted crunch coming from a few feet ahead frightening her. A girl no older than she, in warmer and fanciful clothing, with a wide-eyed expression — perhaps she was as frightened as Jeongyeon.

“ _W-who are you?_ ” The girl spoke with her lip quivering.

Jeongyeon’s eyes drifted down to the very same blue flower held in her clutches.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

The chaos that went with the season of an ice-bound climate was not to be ignored. There were no warnings, no flags to be raised. Instead, it came crashing down in an avalanche. Similarly, thick blankets of white covered more than the eye could see and all the while, a storm raged outside, with not a single blade of grass visible from the banquet hall.

Her mother had told her not to speak to anybody. At the tender age of seventeen, would it be so bold to assume that she simply hadn’t wanted to engage in conversation? They were her servants, after all. But she didn’t feel comfortable calling them as such. Were they not her people too?

Taking her by the shoulder, the Queen’s touch was as freezing as the weather, “My child, may I ask where you’ve been? Do not tell me you’ve wandered off to the library after I instructed you stay in the hall.” 

A disapproving stare from her mother and Tzuyu fights the urge to bite her lip, “I’m sorry. It will not happen again, Mother.”

“I hold you to that, Tzuyu. You are no longer a child. I trust you make the right decisions from this point on, not only for yourself, but for your _people_.”

She had let Tzuyu go, but only so much to keep an eye on her. Tzuyu was starting to believe she had no other business there than to bug her. _What a pain._

What unfolded before her as Tzuyu made her way inside the banquet hall made her heart ache. The townsfolk had been informed to stay in the shelter of their homes until the blizzard passes, with what little sources of heat they have stashed. Inside the walls of the castle, they’d done their best to distribute garments and cloth. They hadn’t even been given the bare minimum of accommodations, and yet also struggle to keep each other warm.

Tzuyu wishes she could reach out and just do something.

But the Queen herself is watching like a hawk. A part of Tzuyu sensed her mother was aware of the shortage, ceasing to take any action. This was very much like her.

What she _hadn’t_ realised was that her face morphed into an unintentional scowl, approaching a maiden she’d never seen before as she shivered while dressed in the thinnest of fabrics — the typical attire, but not the most practical.

“You there. I highly doubt your clothes are suitable during this sort of weather,” She cut to the chase, tone leaking firmly in a facade. In utter surprise, the maiden’s eyes snapped toward hers.

Tzuyu had felt a tad bit guilty for the impression she’d made on her. The girl promptly dropped into a curtsy, although she’d quivered a little by doing so due to the crumbling temperature, “Your Highness.”

The least she could do was lend her the coat that hugged her shoulders — one among the millions that she had stashed in her wardrobes. Simplifying the matter, she had pitied the girl and so gave her something to ease these troubles. Tzuyu was always taught that one generous act could lead to many more, but then again, she wasn’t executing an act of a god, it’s only basic human knowledge to help those in need.

An altruistic deed; nothing to give a pat on the back for. Isn’t that the whole point? Knowing you’d lose something to satisfy the needs of another? In this case, she could feel her mother’s judging aura from the opposite side of the hall.

That begs the question; was this the first time she’d done something like this without considering it first? It had felt all too familiar as she brushed past the brunette with a coat that had only belonged to her until the moment just before.

Was it colder? Was it in plain sight? Or was it hidden?

She couldn’t remember and her mind was taunting her.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

_“I’m not from here,” Her voice was as delicate and fragile as the wind._

_“Then where do you come from?” The latter’s tone softened. Accusatory it was not, but curious._

_It was the way her tears pricked at the edges, a single drop running cold on her cheeks, “Somewhere far away.. I think.”_

_“Are you lonely?”_

_Yes, she was. “No.”_

_“Oh..” She fidgets with her mittens, “Well.. I am.”_

_..._

_“Do you.. want to play with me for a while?”_

●◉◎◈◎◉●

“And what, pray tell, made you rebel?” Sana emphasizes the last part, as if some scandalous event had just taken place. Tzuyu only manages to roll her eyes, arm linked with Sana’s as they roam around the gala.

It’s unlike anything Tzuyu had ever laid her eyes on, that they even sparkle under the mellow glow. She’d expected a lot, but nothing could hide the fact that she’s still blown away.

“I admit it was spontaneous on my end,” Tzuyu contemplates, gaze ever wandering and unable to stay fixed on a single thing. Sana remains silent by her side, wordlessly enjoying the sight just as much as she. “Does it.. bother you, Sana?”

“No, not at all. It’s quite the contrary, actually,” Sana replies, making note of the girl’s shining expression that stays hidden with the shadows of the large sized hood that drapes over her head, “I’ve never seen you this delighted.”

At this point in their friendship, Sana knows her every reaction, her little moments of glee or sadness. Seeing Tzuyu with high spirits allows her to feel the same joy.

Tzuyu paints the same picture, too. It all comes crashing back whenever she notices how Sana doesn’t say much, a childlike wonder taking over her actions instead.

She’d never let anybody this close before — perhaps it was because she had nobody else, but Sana makes her believe in something she’d never had.

It’s uncertain to her whether or not the feeling blossoming in her chest is familiar. 

“Come now, Sana. There’s much to see.”

●◉◎◈◎◉●

There’s an undenying inevitability to each consequence. Those deafening choices stab at Nayeon in every waking moment of her life.

Well not all, but just one.

There is no taking back the decisions you’ve made on your own accord, for which you will pay the price for. But Nayeon’s case is distinct ; she was the price in exchange for their happiness — yet she bore the repercussions all the same. 

One lesson she’d been rudely awakened to is that reality is often cruel. And that recovering would be — if it isn’t already — a far cry.

“Are you going to buy that?” A salesperson keenly asks — too brightly for Nayeon’s liking. Jihyo nudges at her side expectantly, eyeing the object she toys with in her hand; a carved wooden bird with a rose nestled in its beak. “It is indeed the last one in stock, young maiden.”

“Ah, y-yes, sorry,” She unfortunately doesn’t save herself from sputtering it out, fishing out a few pieces of silver to hand to the salesperson. This is quite the shock on Jihyo’s end, lips parted in disguised bewilderment.

Once they’re far enough away from the stalls, Jihyo tests harmless banter out on Nayeon. “I believe this means you’ll turn over a new leaf?”

“Trust me, if it was as easy as you say then it would’ve been long abandoned,” Her words hold no scornful tone. If anything, a little part of her wants to be closer to Jihyo — strangely. She tries to recover with another subject, “How about you? Are you.. glad with your path in life?”

“I’m fairly content with it. But it does get awfully repetitive. It’s like I’m endlessly going around in circles,” She almost lets out a breathless laugh as she recalls all the jobs she’d been put on only to keep the roof over their heads. Nayeon intently listens as Jihyo goes on, “I’ve discussed with my sister about starting anew.. somewhere else. But as you can probably figure out, she isn’t very fond of it.”

Nayeon easily remembers the argument she’d accidentally stumbled upon, “That’s unfortunate.”

They walk in the midst of the crowd, awkward pauses meeting after every three or so sentences, “You and Jeongyeon are quite alike. You both lack the skill to maintain conversation.”

“An acute observation,” The comparison between Jihyo’s sister and herself doesn’t sit right with Nayeon. “When you only have one other person in your life, it doesn’t take much conversational skill to get by.”

In front of them is a wide space laid out with vacant tables and benches. Feet aching from the trip, Jihyo and Nayeon decide to rest.

“I’m led to assume the latter is the blonde we encountered earlier?” Jihyo watched their exchange closely. Though initially thrown off by the woman’s sudden appearance, she couldn’t help but wonder if she carried a sentiment to it.

“Yes. She was the only one around when we were kids. I’d like to think she was.. family to me.”

It isn’t a long shot to say that Nayeon’s entire childhood flew by in the blink of an eye. In fact, it wasn’t all that different to her years as an adolescent. She hadn’t changed much at all.

In the least, that is what she tries to tell herself.

“Do you.. care for her?”

“Not in the way you’d put it. We were never ones for emotional scenes,” She feels guilt eating away at her at how she could’ve gotten to know Momo better; how Nayeon could’ve stopped it where it all went wrong. “She cares as little for me as I do her.” 

Jihyo can’t say she can pinpoint Nayeon’s feelings, in this case, they’re on two entirely different sides of a spectrum. “We’re only human, I think it wouldn’t be crazy to think she came to you for a different reason than what she’d mentioned before,” Nayeon doesn’t open her mouth, a million thoughts running through her mind. Why is she heeding advice that she never asked for?

“That’s a lovely penguin,” Nayeon catches her staring at the wooden carving, “Do you like them?”

“This is.. what a penguin looks like?” Jihyo blinks at her blurted response, but there’s no judgement, just an endearing smile, “In that case then I do not. They seem like quite useless creatures. Why do you have a lot of questions?”

Unlike her comrades, this woman has no filter. Like she’s completely unafraid to say whatever she wants and whenever, not once even trying to hide it. It’s a little scary to Nayeon. 

Even so, she weirdly admires it. Compared with how her sister has been, she’s unpredictable and somehow also mindful.

And it sticks to her skin, like the drop of sweat running its course down the bumps of her spine; a flicker of a spark — one she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re an interesting person, Nayeon.”

●◉◎◈◎◉●

_The young Tzuyu returned that afternoon with a cold. The Queen had specifically ordered the royal guards to watch over the girl as she played in the garden — to whom she would apparently have to see to their penalization._

_Despite the thickness and warmth of her clothing, she had still managed to get sick. Tzuyu sniffled as she sat with her mother on the large couch by the fireplace. This was the room she’d grown up to take lengthy lectures in._

_“Have I not reminded you that the garden is for the pleasure of your eyes only?” The Queen necessitated, “You do not frolic in the bouts of snow. You are not a commoner.”_

_Tzuyu brought her bare hands underneath her arms for more heat as she innocently asked, “What’s wrong with commoners?”_

_The Queen took a while to collect her words, “They are filthy—”_

_The girl wasn’t like that — her clothes were a little torn but she didn’t look dirty at all._

_“— ill-mannered—”_

_She was polite. She gave Tzuyu a small hug before she crawled her way back through a hole in her garden’s hedge._

_“— and deceitful.”_

_But Tzuyu saw nothing more than a girl who only wanted a friend._

_“You are better than that,” Her mother observed Tzuyu looking down at her hands, ones that weren’t concealed with the gloves she had been given. “Where are your gloves, Tzuyu?”_

_“I.. lost them.”_

_“Very well. I’ll arrange the tailor to have new ones made. Now off you go. Tomorrow we’re due to meet with a family of great importance.”_

●◉◎◈◎◉●

It was no use trying to pretend she isn’t some princess sneaking around in the unfitting clothing she has adorned on her. She’s assured of this since the townspeople are much too involved with their own entertainment than anything else, leaving Sana and Tzuyu free to do pretty much anything.

In actuality, she’s tried more things in the past hour than in the past twenty years of her life. Candied strawberries are one — she promptly dubs them as her favourite delicacy. Sana helpfully informs her that it is a fairly simple recipe. Until today, she hasn’t ever seen a live performance, with colorful dust and beautiful dancers. A wish of hers has finally been granted.

Most of all, she’s elated to spend it with her closest friend, Sana.

Both of them are fully entranced in the festival, unable to see a tiny boy pop out and collide with the right of Sana’s hip. In a wince of shock and pain, the mother of the child stumbles out an apology, “I’m terribly sorry, young lady.”

“No worries, madam. Your son was only having fun,”An understanding smile plays at Sana’s lips, directed at the mother and the boy. He is no taller than her hip, and Sana finds him rather cute.

As soon as the woman bows and leaves with her child, Tzuyu utters a question, “I take it you are good with children?”

“I’ve only learned to take care of them because of my siblings,” she says, reminiscing on the times she’d spent with them in their little hut, of which is being taken care of by a trusted friend. 

“Do you think we’ll get to do this again?” Tzuyu asks, more to the air as it seems she’s met with no quick reply.

“We should just savour it as it is, Your Highness,” As happy-go-lucky as she speaks, it wouldn’t change the fact that they themselves wouldn’t have a clue of what would happen after today. Tzuyu can tell there’s a gloom to her statement, “The future is a mystery.”

“It’s the only thing that keeps me up at night, so I would know. I don’t think I could let it go so easily.”

It pierces through the autumn night, gently settling in both of their ears. “You know, it makes me imagine us as the townspeople living here. I think the world would be much kinder to us,” Sana implies.

She can’t say that her mind had never gone there; some days she frames the ideal portrait in her head, however she flushes it out thinking it is futile. “Do you think so?”

Sana shrugs, “I can only have the feeling.”

“That would be nice. Though, I prefer the tales of the countryside. I hear they have greener and crisper grass, of which children frolic in. And plains as far as the horizon stretches,” voices Tzuyu, marvelled in fascination.

“You’ve never been, yet you already seem so attracted to it,” Curiosity vividly shines in Sana’s eyes.

One can only memorize poems through constant recitation. Living as the only daughter in a home fit to accommodate the entire division has its downsides. She’s learned the ins and outs of the castle library as if it was a playground at a park, taking books for her own private reading — many of which were books on their land’s geography and culture, a subject she’d found herself leaning to during her childhood.

Yet no binded up stacks of paper on hills, mountains and ancient scripts can truly grasp the real thing, “Somehow there is.. a part of me that believes I’m meant to be so captivated.” 

Even as the Princess speaks of things Sana doesn’t understand, she nods anyway; what matters is that she can depend on her. Her gaze lingers too long for a single spot in her line of sight, a short haired woman looking quite tipsy, staggering her way into the outskirts of the gala. This is obviously bad news.

“She looks like she’s in pain, Your Highness. We should help her,” Sana alerts the Princess, with arms still linked, they trade a look of concern as they rush to the woman’s side.

They make an attempt to not draw any attention, watching and getting closer to the girl slumped up against the tree, all ten fingers in her hair as her head hangs limp in her grasp. This woman’s style strays greatly from that of the rest of the crowd, with her a button shirt and scrappy sleeves — much unlike the polished robes of the rich attending this evening. 

Not to say that she doesn’t look entirely awful, but there’s room for Tzuyu to take regards to in terms of both her attire and her untimely state.

“Pardon us, Miss, but this really isn’t any place for a woman alone in the woods.”

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Time ticks by, two women sit on a bench — one with a restless bouncing leg and a finger tapping rhythms on the table, the latter pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.

“Jeongyeon should be back by now,” Jihyo frets, the tempo of her fingers quickening. 

“How are you so sure about that? It was like she _wanted_ to flee,” Nayeon snorts, stopping only when she notices the anxious look on Jihyo’s face, “.. sorry.”

“I’ll check the stalls, you go ahead and—” 

Momo, out of nowhere, comes strolling up to their table with a hand to the back of a poor girl with a rather rattled look on her face, “Nay, look who I fished from the fair. Our ‘mole’ seems to have made a welcomed return.”

“Chaeyoung?” Jihyo’s sight travels up and down the girl’s frame in disbelief. Wasn’t she working for the royal family? What is she doing among the crowd?

“H-hello, Jihyo,” Nervous giggling, Chaeyoung scratches the back of her head.

“I see, so you know of her too then?” Momo feigns an open-mouthed gasp, “I ran into her sneaking around this place. Go on, tell them what you told me.”

Chaeyoung clearly does not want to be here, if her actions of annoyance says anything. No matter her reason for being here of all places, this sounds too important for Jihyo to ignore.

“I- is it okay if we talk in private?”

When Momo finally gives her space to breathe, Chaeyoung leads them to a quiet area behind a vacant booth, far from prying eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jihyo,” She lets out along with a sharp breath, flitting in between Nayeon’s unamused expression and Jihyo’s dumbfounded one, “But we were plotting a demonstration for the royal family to see and—”

“You what? Chaeyoung this is what you’ve been doing?” Jihyo almost sounds offended. How could one blame her when she’d just found out that her sister’s closest friend turns out to have a grand scheme up her sleeves? She should’ve seen it coming. It all comes together when she realises how Nayeon was so lenient on guiding them to the castle.

“There isn’t any time to explain, Jihyo, I- I saw Jeongyeon get abducted by two hooded figures and I couldn’t intervene without getting myself into trouble,” Chaeyoung pleads with the most panic-filled eyes she’d ever seen that it hurt. At that moment in time, Jihyo feels her own widen as well, skin paling at the seams, “Please, Jihyo, we must do something.”

“Slow down, which direction did you see them go to?” Jihyo starts in the most manageably calm way. She’s starting to lose it too, but staying composed in this situation is a priority.

Three shaky words are all that come out of Chaeyoung’s mouth, “The royal castle.”

●◉◎◈◎◉●

“I’m sorry, Tzuyu, but would this really be a good idea? There could be royal guards crawling everywhere,” Her head turns back and forth, as the unconscious woman is carried on Tzuyu’s back, Sana’s arms steadily supporting her from behind.

This is _anything_ but what Sana had thought this night would go.

“We are only taking her to the nearest guest room since she’s passed out, Sana. Besides, they are all too occupied by the fair.”

They take a route through the back of the castle, one only used for the purposes of transporting heftier and larger goods this way, they are not likely to be seen, “That is true.. though it was nice just being in the presence of people and the lively atmosphere.”

With a small grunt, Tzuyu kicks the door open with all her energy channelled to keep it from creaking. It’s fairly dusty as they barely use these rooms, thinking of it as a waste that the servants aren’t allowed to stay in them, the least Tzuyu can think of is bringing it up the next time she sees her parents. 

“I apologise,” Tzuyu halts her movements to direct much needed words to Sana, “I know this wasn’t the way you wished it to turn out. I promise I’ll make it up to you, Sana.”

“I don’t care about that, Tzuyu. I’m already content with getting to spend some time with you beyond your daily routine. It was wonderful,” Sana finds it cute how she just stopped in the middle of the room with a woman sleeping on her back only to speak her mind; somehow it still struck a heartstring, “Now please lay the poor woman down. For now I think you should rehearse what you’ll say to her in the morning.”

For someone nearly as tall as she, the woman isn’t very heavy. Tzuyu lets her down on the bed with ease, carefully spreading a blanket over her. She must’ve been exhausted, or just intoxicated — however Tzuyu didn’t smell any alcohol on her.

Still, her forehead can’t help but crease in thought while she observes the woman with an arm now tucked under the fluffy pillow. There isn’t anything that has stood out to her as a person, yet Tzuyu experiences a difficulty to pull her eyes away.

“Your Highness,” With her hand on the door handle, Sana ushers for her to return as they were within the walls of the castle; just a royal and a maid. The contrast is so stark, it pains Tzuyu that they’ll still have to pretend for so much longer, “I’ll be expecting you in your room tomorrow, bright and early.”

Tzuyu offers a small nod and a sad smile, “Thank you.”

It’s returned in the same manner before she closes the door behind her, turning a quick corner in a fleet footed run.

The Queen in turn rounds a different corner, catching a slight glimpse of a brunette in a browned hood and quickened steps.

●◉◎◈◎◉●


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is a little bit of a transitional piece so it's a little short :) Chapter 5 will indeed be much lengthier as there will be much mroe plot!

****

IV 

Nayeon extends her hand, reaching outside her hut to check for drips of rain that would’ve miraculously maneuvered its way through all the tight twists and turns of the rusted pipes and rocky pillars. They’d gone home because it’d started pouring, royal guards guiding people out of the castle square as the sky clouds in a dark gray -- like Jihyo’s mess of emotions now.

Momo passively plays with the clock left atop Nayeon’s table, cross-legged and bored. To her left, Chaeyoung’s rubbing Jihyo’s back, consoling her friend even if she too worries all the same. Nayeon’s smack dab in the middle, wondering how stupid she can be for running off by herself in foreign land, but also tapping her feet in anxious rhythms.

“We’ll wait for the storm to pass, then we’ll look,” Nayeon announces.

“It’s already too dark,” Momo interjects, “We’ll have more luck tomorrow.”

“We have to try-”

Her loud scoff takes Nayeon aback, “Listen, if I’m the least bit honest, she’s a snowflake. She wouldn’t last a day out there. Couldn’t even handle a joke.”

It’s too late when she realises she should've bit her tongue.

“What?” Nayeon burns holes into Momo’s sitting figure, “Did you do this, Momo?”

“Look, all I said was that she should stop pretending to not be the little thief she is and nothing else. I wasn’t expecting her to go missin-”

A slap bounces around the hut, Nayeon’s pale hands meeting Momo’s cheek. Jihyo and Chaeyoung watch their exchange from across the room in silent shock, easily making out Nayeon’s bright red handprint imprinting itself on the woman’s face as she clutches her face with furrowed brows.

“She could be in danger because of you, _idiot_ ,” Nayeon snaps.

Momo refuses to hear her, the only thing she registers is her blood reaching a boil.

“For fuck’s sake, you’ve only met them,” Momo seethes, “You didn’t even think twice about throwing me away.”

Nayeon only continues staring her down wearing a tight-lipped expression.

“Speechless now are we, Im? Typical of you, isn’t it?” In it’s own way, it’s like her curse; she starts fights she can never win, “You’re still pathetic.”

There are truths to Momo’s last utterance as she leaves the hut in the pouring rain. It most definitely stings. And Nayeon feels like punching herself in the gut.

///

“Are you mad at me as well?” They’re standing outside after the storm has cleared. The youngest fast asleep in a snoring fit. Of all people, Jihyo would need the most consoling, and Nayeon just acted like a troubling child, “We’ll find her.”

“Jeongyeon is strong. I have no doubt that she’s okay, I just.. want to get her back,” Instead of a frown, Jihyo wears a hopeful smile. 

Nayeon believes her, finding her on lips tugging into a tiny grin, “Of course,” She connects Jihyo’s shining gaze to the slit in the dark sky, glittered in sparkly specks of whites and purples -- even greens. Among the freckles in the night, hovers an orb of silver and blue. She’d never cared for astronomy, but the sight makes Nayeon remember.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” Nayeon says under her breath, entranced by the wonders up above.

“Agreed, one could even spot the patterns drawn by the gods themselves.”

“That one over there is Delphinus,” Nayeon cranes her head and points to a pattern of six stars, Jihyo squints as she follows her guide humming when she spots it, “One of the smallest constellations. Some say it represented the dolphin sent by the sea god to find the one he wanted to marry.”

Nayeon doesn’t care for astronomy, but somebody had taught her.

“She returned, becoming his wife and rewarded the dolphin by making it a constellation.”

“Love often has happy endings, don’t they? That constellation, it looks like a fishing net,” Her gummy smile is brought out from her laugh, “How do you know all that?”

The woman simply shrugs, “I had a good teacher.”

“The same one who gave you the clock, perchance?”

From what Jihyo picked up, they meet each other in the middle. Nayeon filled in the blanks that she’d never found by herself. For once, Nayeon doesn’t engage -- her own mind losing track and leaving Jihyo in the dark for a distinct minute, “That’s an interesting connection, Miss Park.”

“Moreso, a wild guess.” Jihyo puckers her lips, “No, I was joking, Im.”

“Actually.. that’s right,” Nayeon chuckles without the usual gut, “She gave me a lot of things in the past, and I don’t exactly have anywhere to keep them.”

“Oh.. we should drop it if you don’t feel comfortable-” 

She loses her train of thought once Nayeon whirls around to face her with an indecipherable expression written all over her. “I think..” Jihyo thinks the stars reflect themselves delicately through the windows in Nayeon’s irises, “I think.. I should stop running from it, Jihyo. I want to tell you, before anything else.”

There’s something about her choice of phrasing that makes Jihyo respond oddly; she sees a silver lining -- a chance for change.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

_Jeongyeon was seventeen, Jihyo fifteen, when they found out their mother had died. One had been bawling their eyes out the whole night, the latter cradling her younger sister in her arms – eyes leaking at the seams all the same._

_If the pain she was experiencing could be put into words, it’d be like the weight of the world had come crashing back down, bits and pieces of it stabbing and slicing at every muscle in her being. Most of the shards stayed stricken in her mind, a reminder of how she’d failed as a daughter. Because, oh, how Jeongyeon wished on every shooting star that she’d gone with her mother; to protect her, to at least have a chance to save her._

_All she’d left was a note left hanging on their door, written in her scrawly and loopy handwriting. At first Jeongyeon was confused, thinking it was a reminder for them to fix up their dinner. Except, it wasn’t._

_Jihyo had come rushing into her room at the sound of glass shattering, relaying different variations of ‘what’s wrong?’ as her eyes drifted downwards toward the note, spotted in patterns of the tears streaming down Jeongyeon’s emotionless face. Before she knew it, Jihyo was crying too._

_There was nobody to turn to, nobody to cry to. They were alone._

_And too young to fully understand anything._

_Why the world was so mercilessly cruel, why it took people away as if it was plucking flowers from a garden, why it had taken everything from her. Because not everybody was as pure as she was. There were deafening factors blurring the lines between morality, those of which Jeongyeon despised with every fibre of her being._

_And it all ties into how Jeongyeon decided that she would detest anybody who were of money -- the source of one's deepest desires and caused masses upon masses of destruction._

_She hadn’t yet accepted that nothing could ever bring her mother back. How could she? It really is easier said than done. And Jeongyeon isn’t much for empty promises._

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Sunlight leaks through the slit in the curtains, Jeongyeon’s back doesn’t leave a stinging pain this morning unlike times past. It’s almost like she’s resting on plush wool, and not the scruffy kind. She’s glad to have some piece of her that’s still hinged to reality, that being her dirtied clothing and.. where are her boots? Her feet get hit instantly by a cold breeze, jolting her straight up in a shiver.

She’s not in her room, nor Nayeon’s hut. Jeongyeon doesn’t even know where she is. She doesn’t wake in a sweltering heat, the room being rather large in size that Jeongyeon actually has space to breathe properly. The drawn blue curtains now remind her of those sold in one of those fancier shops down the street, famously known for its high quality material and top production. 

The last thing that runs through her mind in a split second is how she’d passed out.. then the smell of strawberries. This is all too much, perhaps she’s experiencing a hallucination. That would explain the impending headache about to leave its mark in her skull. Other than that, her hand is tighter than usual, restricting any big movements as she curls her palm into a fist. It’s bandaged and actually done quite well, tinges of red leaking from the tips of her knuckles.

She’s too distracted to notice somebody clicking open the door, “He- hello.”

A brunette pops her head through the doorway carrying a tray, a porcelain bowl and matching cups atop it. Would it be possible that Jeongyeon had taken shrooms of any sort during the festival?

“Where am I?” The panic rises up her stomach, evident in her pitchy tone.

The brunette flinches, recoiling almost, “I do not think it would be appropriate to tell you where we are as of yet, I apologise..” 

“Then what the _hell_ am I doing here?” 

Her kidnapper shuts the door behind her, making her way toward Jeongyeon at a wary pace, “Please calm down, madam.”

“You kidnap me and you have the gall to call me ‘madam’?”

“I-” The woman gives signs she’s given it thought, slightly hesitating, “It isn’t best for me to explain this to you.”

“What are you even sayi—”

“Sana, has she woken?” Another figure steps into the light, obscuring Jeongyeon’s attention and bringing herself to question what she’d done to get here. 

This woman doesn’t look like just.. anybody. There’s an oddness surrounding the woman that Jeongyeon absentmindedly distinguishes about her. On the off chance she has been kidnapped, there would be no reason that Jeongyeon can come up with that they would take her of all people. They clearly aren’t needy, the abnormal clothing – from what Jeongyeon understands – are that of townspeople with a hefty amount of rock on their hands. Were they sadists then? A hate crime aimed toward the poor? She knew this whole thing was a bad idea in the first place, and she’d ignored all the signs–

“Your Highness,” The girl from before speaks meekly, bringing her voice down between the two of them,“She has, but she’s.. a little shaken.”

_Your… Highness? As in.. the Princess?_ Jeongyeon hears it, and she wishes she hasn’t.

It’s all made clear - possibly - to Jeongyeon now, the gears turning and creaking in her head like a ticking clockwork. It’s crazy for her to even assume, speaking from the clear signs of royal emblems embedded onto the molding decorated on the walls, not to mention the way she addresses the girl in the middle of the room with her sequined dress.

“Thank you for looking after her, please leave us be for now,” ‘Your Highness’ is completely unreadable while she takes a glance at Jeongyeon’s speechless body. Her mouth parts slightly, as if there was something that wants to escape; nothing does.

It’s the way time slows as Jeongyeon meets her brown eyes, but she’s seen many like them before — the same shade of cedar as any other. It’s how she represents a standard of beauty that Jeongyeon could vaguely recognize from the mass of people. The lines in between are blurred by their gazes held in the silence, threatening to cut and break.

“I’m– I don’t have much to say. Except that we– uhm– you were in an unfortunate situation. I– we just couldn’t leave you there like that. I hope you understand what we had to do,” She stutters through her words, softly clearing her throat afterwards.

The Princess from the evening before crosses Jeongyeon’s mind. She hadn’t been able to get a very nice view, only hearing the speech that rang in the square. Apparently that same voice echoes at a near whisper right to Jeongyeon at this very point in time. No doubt that there is a stark difference. Jeongyeon’s guard, once raised higher than the skies, falters to a drop.

Her lips betray her instantly, “Look, I do not care for why you’ve done this, but I need to leave,” Jeongyeon hops off the bed determined to forget any of this just happened. Because it cannot be happening.

“No, you can’t. Not now, at least,” The Princess sports a look of desperation settling on her features. Her hand reaches for Jeongyeon, hovering slightly in the air before she comes to her senses and it drops to her side, “It’s early in the day, the place is swarming with people. You’d get spotted immediately. Please, let me think of something with less risk for now.”

There’s something about her that Jeongyeon knows she’s talking to a royal descendant; aside from the looks, it's how she jumped to action, offering to take caution yet still taking the lead. 

(Why doesn't Jeongyeon feel unnatural to be in the same room as her, though?)

“You don’t have to worry about me being spotted. I’m.. good at that,” Jeongyeon mutters the last part, unable to hold her eye contact for less than a second. How could she? Is she even allowed to? Wasn’t it only a moment ago when she’d unintentionally disrespect her by saying she ‘ _doesn’t care for why she saved her_ ’? Then why does she care now? Even when she isn’t nauseous anymore, Jeongyeon’s thoughts are still spilling jumbles of incoherent white noise.

“That isn’t my point. Please trust me, it’s safer to stay where you are now,” Jeongyeon really hates herself for letting up so easily, who could blame her when she’s pretty sure there’s legions under this woman’s name alone; Chou – she runs the name in her mind like a tape on repeat.

“Is your hand getting better? It was a tough job patching it up,” The Princess doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, catching her eyes set on Jeongyeon’s bandaged hand. So much for privacy. Either way, Jeongyeon is suddenly self-conscious, the growing need to tuck her arm away urging her.

“It’s fine.. thank you..” Jeongyeon pauses before adding a soft and hurried, “.. Your Highness.”

“For as long as you stay, you’re our guest.. of sorts..” The Princess rings her hands, phrasing words in her head, “You do not have to address me like that, I do prefer Tzuyu.”

Jeongyeon blinks once, then twice. “I- okay then.. but I won’t be staying for much longer, I must get back before my family worries about my whereabouts,” It seems the universe goes against her again, because when she bends over the foot of the bed to put on her (neatly arranged) boots, she consequently adds weight to her hand. Shortly after, a searing pain shoots to her knuckles, the shock sending Jeongyeon’s arm back to her chest as she hisses, “Shit–”

“Are you alright?” She reaches again, but pulls her hand away much quicker before Jeongyeon realises, “It seems you are in no condition to return until you fully heal.”

“No, that would take much too long..” Jeongyeon buries her head in her hands, all out of options and excuses; life loves dragging her into situations she despises. What would Jihyo say? Has she even noticed that Jeongyeon was gone? “What am I even doing?” It’s like a never ending loop of helplessness that she always finds herself trapped in, it’s getting on her nerves. 

The bed dips close to Jeongyeon’s space, it would be comforting if it weren’t for the fact that the woman herself is a stranger - a royal one, at that -“I may not know exactly what you’re feeling, however, I assure you that I will do everything in my power to get you home.”

Jeongyeon can’t find it enough to meet her eyes, fixed on the floor as her head hangs low. 

Tzuyu rises carefully, leaving the woman be. It would be better to give her space.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Of all things, the Queen should not be underestimated. Her Majesty, in all of her glory, is cunning, highly observant and above all, a representation of the terror that one fears so widely. Sana, being one of the castle’s servants, is someone who knows this full well. The fact that she’d been summoned in front of the servants’ quarters alone is absolutely nothing short of terrifying.

“Sana, correct?” The Queen lays down a soft smile, “It’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Sana fights the need to swallow when she feels her throat catch.

“Truthfully, I must say it is nice to have my daughter befriend someone of her age. She’s always had trouble with that, as you must already know.”

With good reason, Sana tries not to let her guard down. She doesn’t wish to think ill of the Queen herself, except it would be embarrassing if she would just collapse after being singled out like this, “Her Highness is delightfully kind. She takes care of me well, Your Highness,” She doesn’t refrain from telling the truth about Tzuyu, however. There’s only good things that cross her mind whenever someone utters the name.

“That’s lovely to hear, Sana,” The Queen nods, eyeing her with intense detail, “You’ve become exceptionally close these past few days, haven’t you? It’s simply wonderful to see Tzuyu come out of her shell because of you, truly,” Suddenly, Sana finds herself breathing the same air as Her Highness, a threateningly close distance away from the young woman, “Of course, you are nothing to her but a maid.”

It’s as if Sana’s been stripped of her own breath, nothing but a strict gaze overcoming her, all in regards to the Queen. Her eyes are saucer-wide, fingers ever so slightly shaking at her diminished tone. 

_‘You are nothing to her but a maid.’_

If it had come from anybody else, Sana would’ve brushed it off -- or laughed it off, even. But these are genuine words from the Queen. A strung-together sentence concocted to break Sana’s being.

_‘You are nothing to her but a maid.’_

Sana finally swallows; it was difficult to.

“I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up, darling,” The Queen feigns compassion, her voice ringing a tune so manipulative one could bawl their eyes out, “You’re a wonderful girl, however Tzuyu has much more important matters than tending to a peasant like yourself.”

Just as Sana thinks her chest couldn’t constrict even more, the Queen decides to add even more salt to the wound, “In fact, we have an incredibly important guest coming over, would you like to do the honors of serving us today?”


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter V is a sneak peek of what's to come :D We're getting to some angsty stuff, people! 
> 
> Here are some songs I listened to while writing this chapter that sorta fit the vibes if you wanna give it a listen :)  
> How Does A Moment Last Forever - Celine Dion (jeongtzu part <3)  
> Palace - Sam Smith (i love nahyo)  
> Gravity - G-IDLE’s Minnie Cover (originally by Sara Bareilles)

**V**

Her clothing, not that it was like that before, begins to itch at her skin now. Her shoes annoyingly start to clip the edges of the wooden flooring as she senses she’s nearing the throne room. Today is a special occasion, yes, the arrival of one that has too been in hiding -- very much like their own princess.

The visit sparks clamour, strange gossip that follows her toward her long journey to the throne room -- the center of all eyes and all attention. Sana arrives there earlier than most, a servant who’s dutiful until the very end. She fidgets with her clothes, suddenly feeling more tighter than usual, as do her nerves.

Like everybody else present, they marvel at the sight, one for sore eyes. Plenty of the older servants find it familiar and the ones not so much, like Sana, still can’t help but gawk with parted lips and short gasps. What sounds next is the brass that officiates the anticipated occurrence.

“Her Royal Highness,” She needs not to make a single statement, her very complexion and presentation an incarnation of true elegance. A dove adorned in white, no, a swan distinguished on the painted blue lines of a frosty lake. She’s light, no movement of hers brash or clumsy. She’s perfect. “Princess of West Thathien, Myoui Mina.”

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Tzuyu comes back to visit Jeongyeon with lunch, soup and some vegetables that she’d snuck out of the kitchen.

“Er.. it’s carrot soup and salad. Oh, unless you don’t eat that? I’m able to get something else for you to eat if you so desire?” 

Before Tzuyu gets the chance to retreat, Jeongyeon blurts out, “No, no it’s fine. I shouldn’t be asking this much of you anyway,” Her voice trails away in the last part, turning into a fine mutter under her breath. The irony of it all is awkward, how Jeongyeon feels like a princess sitting upright on the mattress, instead of Her Highness herself -- especially since she’s the one to serve her lunch.

“Don’t be silly, you’re our guest,” Tzuyu pulls at her garments, now unusually self-conscious of where her hands are. Jeongyeon doesn’t say anything else, hands already cupping the bottom of the carrot soup and downing it in several gulps as she holds the bowl up in the sky. It’d be creepy of Tzuyu just to watch Jeongyeon eat her meal while she has no food of her own, so the Princess goes to take her leave once more until a burping noise sounds from the woman.

A tomato-faced Jeongyeon draws her lips in a tight line, “I- sorry.. do you have.. water that I can drink?”

“Yes, of course, hold on,” The Princess goes up to the nearby vanity with a ceramic pitcher. She fills it up, and hands it to Jeongyeon, “Please if there’s anything else you need, do not be afraid to voice it out.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be asking too much of you.. Tzuyu,” A new name rests upon her tongue, outlandish but not unusual, “Just allowing me to be in your care is more than enough.”

“It’s the human thing to do,” Tzuyu smiles, “Can.. I ask for your name?”

Should she make up an alias? No, that wouldn’t exactly do her any good. What if she chooses a similar divergent to her name?

“Uh- Yoongyeon,” _Amazing._ “Sorry, it’s- uhm, Jeongyeon.”

“Okay, _Uhm Jeongyeon_ , would you mind if I call you Jeongyeon?” Despite her stumble, Tzuyu doesn’t pin any embarrassment on her, much to Jeongyeon’s relief.

“That’s alright, I suppose.”

They fall into another mute void, both incapable of keeping up any conversation -- Tzuyu’s a princess for god’s sakes, she was taught this since she was a child. As for Jeongyeon, there isn’t any luck in that department. Is there even anything to talk about? Do they even want to know more about each other?

“That night in the fair, why were you sitting there all alone?” Tzuyu carefully starts, as if treading around a twig that’s so fragile it could snap at any moment.

“Ah, I wasn’t feeling very well. I thought I’d take a rest but I’d ended up even more drowsy than before,” Tzuyu avoids bringing up her injury after Jeongyeon finishes speaking with her hand scratching her nape, “And you? You’re a princess, are you not? They say your face has never been seen until that day, why is that?”

“My parents aren’t so fond of the idea of me being ogled on the streets by men. In my opinion it’s quite an effective measure, and so far it’s only served me well,” Tzuyu easily admits this, the next part not so much, “But it’s always a dull moment when all you get to see with each passing year are the same variants of beige and red in the castle.”

“I can imagine it would get quite boring,” Jeongyeon concedes, “Yet you have books, beds, and the best cooks in the entire country.”

“What are you saying, Jeongyeon?”

“You have everything at your feet. What else could you be missing?” Because if Jeongyeon was that wealthy, she’d feast on every meal she wouldn’t normally be able to get her hands on, she’d read books in a place called a library, she’d wear all the fancy clothing for herself. What’s not to love?

“A chance to live. In this cruel world, nobody is given a fighting chance. However, I want that to change. I want to be able to pave a way for those less fortunate.” Headstrong, Tzuyu is a born leader - whether she acknowledges it or not. Moulded from birth, she’s meant to be a replica of anyone else from the long and royal line of the Chou family. 

Jeongyeon considers her answer, spinning the thought around in her head, playing with it for a while. This wasn’t what royals were like back in the day. They were selfish, proud - in all the wrong and deceitful ways. Yet the woman in front of her.. Tzuyu sincerely cares for her subjects. “I believe that these people look up to you. I have no doubts that you will let them down as Queen.” 

The compliment makes heat flush to her cheeks, “As much as I wish that to be true, my mother does not think I am fit to lead, despite her contradictory words,” She sighs, “I let my emotions get the better of me at the most undesirable situations.”

“We’re all able to balance both the mind and the heart, some of us just let the scale tip at certain times,” Jeongyeon recites, a quote directly coming from her sister’s own mouth - when she needs it, she soothes herself with those very same words. “Emotions are what make us human, I do not see how that’s wrong.”

A part of Jeongyeon wants to say more, that she relates to Tzuyu in some way. She doesn’t know exactly why she wants to make it known, but it calls to her secretly - as if sharing it to her ears would relieve the ache she feels somewhere deep down.

Then when Tzuyu parts her lips to respond, her eyes flicker downward, “I suppose I’m babbling again, I do apologise if this makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all,” Jeongyeon’s quick to dismiss her doubts, “The company is nice, and I have no means of getting out of here anytime soon.” 

The atmosphere takes a turn for the heavier, the older realising her own mistimed jest as she notices the Princess biting her tongue. Tzuyu’s only learned about useless conversational points when speaking to those of her status, not ones to use on commoners. The comparison shouldn’t even come into existence. They’re all people in the end. That being said, it should be so much more nerve-racking to speak to Jeongyeon, yet Tzuyu feels the tension easing from her spine the more the woman opens her mouth. 

“As you’ve guessed, it does indeed get lonely here. There are far too many rooms for my liking, of which I’m sure are collecting the dust of past generations,” Maybe Tzuyu isn’t thinking this through, but it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for anyone. “You’re my guest, Jeongyeon, it would be rude of me to dullen your stay.”

Jeongyeon, now being dragged out the door with her non-injured hand by an eager princess -- a scenario she’d never dreamed would happen to her -- tries her best to set aside the jumpiness in her stomach.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

“And there’s an entire circuit of underground passageways near the farthest end of the castle, one that nobody guards and is always lit with torches.” Not so much like a rescue mission, Chaeyoung beams while mentioning all the secrets of the castle during her stay. “I’ve only been there three or four times but it’s quite easy to navigate once you get the hang of it.”

“Three or four times? You’d think a delinquent like you would actually think to do the job you were hired for.” Nayeon narrows her eyes at the blonde, seemingly having forgotten that her friend could possibly be in imminent danger. “We’re here to discuss one thing in question and that is my sister. The kidnappers could be miles from here.”

Nayeon squints through the sunlight, hindering her twenty-twenty vision and replacing it with bright flares of white. Losing the hot-headed Momo in the feud from a night ago, they’re left with combined information of zero to lead them to clues concerning Jeongyeon’s kidnappers. Or if she’s even well -- or alive.

Even through their petty fights, Nayeon grows a pit of concern.

“I can’t agree with that,” Chaeyoung denies, “Carriages and other forms of transport have been disallowed, even the sneakiest of men and women aren’t able to just get away from the square.”

“And yet, Jeongyeon has.” Jihyo counters, with both pairs of eyes now glued to hers. “You said the royal castle, didn’t you? If I were in their shoes, I’d have no business doing a deed so heinous in the property of royals.”

Nayeon hums, turning back to Chaeyoung, “And you’re sure that’s exactly what you saw?”

“Two hooded figures of about.. both about yea tall,” Chaeyoung holds a hand above herself, only a few inches off the top of her head. “I’ve heard of assassins in the east but never have the castle servants once mentioned them in passing -- and they never shut their mouths.”

“We should check the area for anything that could be able to aid our search.” Jihyo pinches the bridge of her nose. A flash of irritation appears on her face before it dissolves. Still, Nayeon gulps, “All this blabber is getting us nowhere and Jeongyeon needs us so please, let’s go.”

The two are understandably hot on her heels as they pass the hustle and bustle toward the main square.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Invading Jeongyeon’s senses (pleasurably) is the scent of leather-back books, and roughened and weathered paper among the stacks and piles that decorate the entrance -- and all the wooden tables around it. As if to add to her already awestruck state, Tzuyu leads her to a rolling ladder.

“I’ve read about 7914 books in this library alone,” Tzuyu reminisces, “Each day I’ve wondered if I could eventually milk every piece of novel, journal and chronicle from these shelves. I do not know if it’s a good thing to say that there’s as much knowledge in this hall as stars in the universe. This ladder has known the trials I’ve faced as well as I.” A tribute to her words is visible through the scuff marks on the ladder’s golden rungs. 

“It’s lovely. These books.. there are so many of them.” Jeongyeon’s gaze wanders around, a new and exciting sight to see with every glance, “I’m afraid I’m only familiar with lesser known types of literature.”

“Enlighten me,” Her words spill softly, gaze encouraging.

“They were poems that my mother wrote.”

The revelation of new information makes Tzuyu’s ears perk, “Is she a poet?”

“Yes, she was.”

And Jeongyeon remembers it vividly. How she’d always be the first one to the table whenever her mother would write her poems, putting an inked quill to paper. Even as the moon reigned high, she’d stay there right by her side along Jihyo for hours on end.

“Oh.. I- didn’t mean to-”

“No, there’s nothing for you to apologise for. I hardly even think that she’s gone.” She’s oversharing, her mouth just a step ahead of her own thinking. She doesn’t fight it. “She had each one of her poems hung up on the walls of our house. There were so many of them that I could recite each one off the top of my head.”

“She must’ve been a lovely woman. Among all of her writings, do you have a favourite?”

Jeongyeon does. One scrawled on a piece of paper that she’d kept hung up by the side of her bed. One that she could easily visualise, that struck home whenever she took the time each night to read. “Where we met, I myself could not have recalled,” Jeongyeon quotes, “Despite the memories we’d promised to keep being so faded, all of my senses traced me back to you. My sight harnessed you in my daydreams, and my ears could hear your voice while I slept. I still taste you on my lips like you’ve never left, but the more I tried to forget,” Jeongyeon’s breath nearly hitches, Tzuyu giving her a look that entails so much adoration. “It was the fragrance of where we’d first met that never left my mind. In the littlest of things, to the biggest gestures, you were still there with me as you proclaimed your love.”

At her silence, Jeongyeon begins to think she’d said something wrong. “That’s.. I have no words. It’s beautiful, Jeongyeon.” Even with the tears decorated on the corners of her eyes, it’s like magic how she remains so flawless.

Her mother had written the poem for Jeongyeon’s father, the man that like her mother, had left Earth far too soon. Even after his death, her mother didn’t like to cry about the loss. As if she didn’t want any bitterness left, she similarly didn’t want to remember his death with blue thoughts.

“Was it that good? Once you read it over and over it’ll start to become cheesy,” Jeongyeon scrunches her nose.

“I beg to differ. Even as I carve it onto wood, I don’t think I’ll go tired of hearing it knowing those words had come from you.” Both their heartbeat race ever so slightly -- the one on the receiving end flushing red, the latter cursing herself for allowing the words to sound bolder than she’d originally intended. Tzuyu’s the quicker of the two to recover, “Thank you for sharing it with me, Jeongyeon. I hope that it isn’t too much to say that.. it means a lot to me.”

“I’m sure my mother would’ve been glad to hear that the Princess herself enjoys a piece of her work.”

In a library up in a cold castle, the world stops spinning only for a moment while two bodies stir in its mess.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Whatever leads they could’ve had then, are now erased without any trace -- perhaps there weren’t any at all.

“Don’t fret, there’s a ton of other possibilities as to where Jeong has gone.” 

Chaeyoung’s high spirits are left hanging, Nayeon pressing her lips in a tight line. “Yes, because _that’s_ reassuring.”

“Sorry..” The maid mutters out before carrying out her business.

“You’re awfully tense, Jihyo. Like you said, Jeongyeon is strong. She’s fine.” Nayeon consoles.

“I know that, I’m not so sure if I am, though. Strong, that is.” As melancholic as she utters those last words, the corners of Jihyo’s lips turn upward through it. “When we were little she’d always be the one helping me. She’d never depended on anybody even when she was in dire need of it. I want to be there for her, Nayeon.”

Everytime she brings it up, Nayeon feels like she’s intruding on their own matters, like it isn’t her place to say anything. Except even though Jihyo says the contrary, Nayeon senses she needs someone there for her even more.

“Remember about what I told you last night?”

Jihyo nods.

“She’d taught me that the strength of one’s own is best lifted with the help of another’s. We shall be strong for her, Jihyo.”

The way Nayeon suddenly knows all the right things to say makes Jihyo think back to how they’ve first met. 

And how Jihyo’s thankful that she met someone as wonderful as she.

“Aha!” Chaeyoung exclaims out of the blue, now several feet away from the two and facing a bush. “Sorry to ruin your heart wrenching moment, but I found something. Remember how I told you the castle has a ton of chambers and er.. passageways?” 

They both perk up at the mention.

Brushing away some twigs and leaves, Chaeyoung reveals a body-sized slit in a large piece of stone as she pulls them away with a grunt, and inside, a barely-lit darkness shrouded with tinges of yellow from the candles mounted on its walls.

“Secret tunnel!” Chaeyoung shouts with a fist in the air.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

_(“I think.. I should stop running from it, Jihyo. I want to tell you, before anything else.”_

_Nayeon takes a deep and hopeful breath, all her messy feelings embroidering themselves with the stars scattered all across the lunar abyss._

_“I didn’t know the effect she’d have on me when we first met, but it was evident when I started spending most of my hours with her. She enveloped me in her care, with every last piece of her love,” Her mouth nearly runs dry, Nayeon swallows before continuing, “I believed she was my everything at the time. I didn’t see how much it blinded me after I’d already fallen in too deep. That’s.. why Momo was so livid. She saw what I couldn’t and I waved off all the signs.”_

_“You couldn’t know. That’s what love does to people.”_

_“I know that now, but the damage has already been done. She left me. It was designed from the start, there was no way they would let her stay. All the odds were against us, yet I tried. I was stupid.”_

_“It’s not stupid to fight for who you love.”_

_“But she didn’t,” Nayeon bitterly chuckles, “She didn’t fight. She looked at me the day before she left with the coldest eyes, and said that she never loved me.”_

_It’s then when Jihyo becomes speechless, at a complete loss for words at the hardship Nayeon had been put through._

_“Each memento, each piece of jewelry, each piece of clockwork, means nothing to me, yet I still keep them here. I found selling them and scamming others to get it for a higher price helped me cope. I know it’s pathetic but..” She trails off, not wanting any judgement from the woman._

_“The jewelry we bought from you when we met..” Jihyo guesses._

_“It was hers. All of it was hers.”_

_“I didn’t tell you this to pity me, Jihyo. I’m telling you this to apologise,” Nayeon nearly screams the sentence out, almost venting the frustration that she’d aimed toward herself for so many years into one heartfelt apology for someone she’d just met. “It was my fault you and Jeongyeon were put in this situation. If you hadn’t met me you--”_

_Jihyo wraps her arms around the other. She’s warm._

_“Don’t blame yourself for everything. We’re here now and we’ll get her back together,” Jihyo points out, her chin still resting on Nayeon’s shoulder in the embrace. “I like you, Nayeon. I’m not fond of having to imagine a world where we don’t cross paths.”_

_Nayeon only melts in the woman’s arms. The silence being replaced by the softness of her sobbing._

_I like you, Nayeon._

_Platonic or not, Nayeon reciprocates her feelings all the same.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of my submission for the Twice Underrated Ships Ficfest. Stay tuned for more :)


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